Glitter and Gore
by artificialprince
Summary: Kurt Hummel and Blaine Anderson find the joys in their lives from simple things. From each other, friends and family, good wine, good music and good humour. And also from filthy, bloody murder.   Serial Klillers!
1. Prologue: The Rain

**The prologue in a serial klillers chapter story. Serial Klillers, killer klaine, serial killer academy, serial klaine. this fits in with all of those. I love the tumblr glee fandom and all the glorious things it has given me to inspire my fics.**

**oh, and look, I'm writing something that isn't just a one-shot! REJOICE.**

**Chapter updates may be slow, depends on my workload with school. **

**~reviews always appreciated~**

* * *

It was going to rain.

Kurt could tell from the angry set of clouds in the sky. They were dark and heavy and _huge_, and Kurt could imagine their evergrowing angry excitiment and anticipation for the coming storm. Kurt knew that clouds couldn't really feel all these things, yet he liked to pretend. A childish glimmer in his blue eyes reflected back at him against the window. He let his attention waver from the clouds to the image in the window that was a reflection of what was behind him. Blaine Anderson, the huge kitchen cleaver above his head, about to slam it down hard.

_Thump._

Metal struck flesh, and through to wood.

Kurt continued to stare at the image reflected in the window, Blaine slicing through the raw chicken meat back in the kitchen with a little more enthusiasm then necessary when cooking dinner. Smiling slyly, Kurt turned towards the other man, walking slowly toward him.

'You look a little restless Blaine.'

Blaine looked up from the poultry. His eyebrows furrowed. 'What are you talking about, I'm just making dinner,' he said a little defensively. Kurt came up behind him, weaving his arms around Blaine's waist to hold him, as Kurt tucked his chin into Blaine's neck. Swaying him back and forth, Kurt heard Blaine put down the knife.

'It's been a while Blaine. You just look like you need to... y'know...'

'Kurt...'

Kurt's hands teased the waistband of his boyfriend's jeans, playing gentley with the denim. Blaine shifted his weight, brushing Kurt's hands away. Hurt crossed the man's features for only a fraction of a second before he stepped away from Blaine.

'I just thought we could use it as a way to relax. We're leaving in a few days anyway. We could use it as a sort of... going away gift to our selves.' Kurt said innocently. Blaine looked into his eyes, rolled his own and turned back to the meat he had been preparing.

'It'd be too suspicious.'

'No it wouldn't. Come on, just a hitch hiker. Or an attractive hobo. I don't know, I've been so bored lately! I've got a few new things I want to try out anyway... Things I know you'd enjoy...' Kurt's voice was warm and playful, and Blaine knew that he was going to get his way in the end.

'Okay, _fine._ But after dinner. And only if it actually starts raining.' Blaine gave in to his boyfriend's wishes.

Kurt's face lit up in an instant, and he clapped his hands together with an excited squeal. 'Yes, thankyou, thankyou!' Kissing the side of Blaine's cheek, he rushed out of the kitchen, heading towards the basement. Blaine shook his head with a smile as he heard Kurt's footsteps thump down the stairs and the basement door slam. Blaine knew Kurt was busying himself with extravagent preparations. Nothing had changed in that man since he was in highschool. When he did something, he did it _big._ Only over the years the something had changed somewhat. The glitz and glamour was still there in his doings, only the glitter sparkled much darker, catching the shadows, rather then the light.

And for some strange, twisted reason, it only made him love Kurt all the more.

Behind the closed door of the basement, Kurt's eyes were alive with childish hunger. He was excited. He was always excited before he got his own way.

He found the silver lighter, the scented candles. Rose and honey scent filled the dark room, the flickering orange flame dancing as Kurt went to work, preparing for his fun. He skipped about his playground, there was the scrape of a cage being dragged, and shuffle from inside the bars. Kurt's voice murmured something high yet quiet, a calming to the enclosed creature. The first few drops of rain began to fall. Kurt's grin was illuminated by the light of the candle as he spun in excitement at the sudden downpour. He could imagine Blaine's sigh, a sigh or relief, because Kurt knew how much he loved this, no matter how much he tried to deny it.

Both of them truely loved only a few things.

Their families.

Their friends.

To perform.

Each other.

and last but not least the satisfying cry of pain, that tear of flesh, the splatter of hot blood. The final gasps of choked life becoming quiet death.

They lived to love. And to find love in killing.

Kurt's child like eyes glimpsed the various tools, long, silver and cold. Shiny. Glimmering in the candle light.

'Oh, tonight will be fun, I assure you Blaine,' Kurt whispered to himself, rattling the cage in his hands to tease the creature inside. A snarl came from the cage, and a cruel giggle escaped Kurt's lips.

It was all fun and games for the boy from here on out.


	2. Chapter One: The Dark

**I finished this chapter just before I head off to camp. I'm sure 12 year olds will feel safe to know that their camp counsellor writes about serial killers in their spare time~**

**reviews, always appreciated.**

* * *

Darkness. It always came.

To finalise the ending of another day. To help prove you really are alone.

Jeremiah hated the dark. He hated dark eyes, dark expressions and dark hair. He tried his hardest not to be one of those close minded people who judged people on the colour of their face, but he never felt truely safe around those with dark skin. It was just the fear he had had since he was very young. Even now, at nearly 30 years old, Jeremiah Wilson still slept with the hall light on. He avoided dark coloured clothing, was thankful for his light hair and eyes. He never dated a man with brown eyes or hair. He just said that the blonde headed beach boy was his type. No one knew of his irrational fear of dark.

So no one would of known how much Jeremiah was truely scared that very night.

Walking alone, and in the wake of rain, along the long black road of the highway. Tall green oaks lined either side of the road, thick forests of shrub stretching out in every direction. This was as isolated as Jeremiah had ever been. The heavy rain clouds had formed a dark canopy above his blonde head, daring to break open at any second. His pace quickened, even though he had no real reason to hurry. He would surely be stuck out in the open when the rain came, and when the nighttime darkness properly set in. His left thumb remained pernamently out as he trudged onwards, body twisted slightly sideways, as his head turned and searched desperately for any sign of a car.

That's when the clouds broke. The darkness of the storm clouds exploded in heavy drops of rain, beating down hard and only too fast. Jeremiah let of a little yelp of shock as his arms came above his head to shelter himself somewhat. Tears stung at his grey eyes, and he let them fall. No one was here to see him cry anyway, and he didn't care if they were. He'd say it was the rain, which it was in a way. The cause of the tears, not why his face was wet with tiny droplets.

Jeremiah continued his attempt of hitch hiking, his thumb stretched out and his right arm sheltering his drenched hair. He stumbled onwards, scared and shivering, as the rain had only darkened the scene ahead of him. He lost count of the seconds, the minutes, before his eyes suddenly squinted at the sight of a pair of bright yellow head lights coming towards him.

Pure instinct. He needed to be rescued. He flung himself into the car's coming path shouting and waving his hands wildly, forcing the silver landrover to pull over. Out stepped a man in a dark coat and a checkered umbrella that matched the sandy colouring of the coat's trim, the dome of material protecting his light brown hair. Jeremiah was at the point where he didn't care about his silly superstition of dark clothing, this man had actually stopped for him. He moved towards the unknown man, a smile of relief on his lips.

'Oh my god, thankyou, thankyou for stopping! I've been walking out here all day, and you're pretty much the only car I've seen...' Jeremiah stammered breathlessly. The man's eyes were a crystal blue from what he could tell, which only reassured him.

'Oh, it's fine really. It's a pretty big coincidence I even drove past this way actually. I don't usually head up here.' The man half smiled, scanning Jeremiah up and down.

'Well, I'm so glad you did. I didn't really want to try and make my way into town through this rain anyway.' Jeremiah laughed stiff and nervous as this man continued to inspect him. 'Uhh.. I'm Jeremiah,' he said holding out a rough hand for the man to shake. His crystal eyes stared into Jeremiah's palm for a long second before stretching out a long pale hand to grip the offered one. The other man shook firm and solid despite the soft texture of his skin and dainty appearance.

'Kurt.'

Jeremiah released his hand from the shake after the appropriate legnth of time before glancing at his own feet and that of the stranger known now as Kurt. 'Say, listen since you're heading into town, surely you wouldn't mind givin' me a lift eh? Seeing as you stopped, I just presumed you would...'

Kurt's eyes brightened and flickered with an emotion that Jeremiah couldn't name. 'Not at all! It would be heartless to leave you out here alone. What kind of person would I be if I left you out here like an abandoned puppy!'

Jeremiah smiled. He was getting a ride from a guy who seemed friendly enough. Kurt showed him to the passenger side of the car, before climbing into the driver's side. The cab was warm with the fresh heat of the engine, as Kurt twisted at the ignition and let the car roar to life. Jeremiah's hands fumbled at the vents in the dashboard, pointing the two closest to face him in an attempt to warm himself up. He was drenched through to the bone and with a hard shiver from Jeremiah's thin frame, Kurt started off on his way into town.

'Thankyou again Kurt,' Jeremiah smiled already warming up. Kurt returned his smile with a dimpled one of his own, and Jeremiah felt a sharp stab in his stomach, realising that Kurt was actually very attractive in the dim glow from the dashboard lights.

'It's fine, really.' Jeremiah's eyes focused on the redundant swipe of the windscreen wipers as they pushed away walls of water again and again and again. 'So,' Kurt continued after a minute, trying to strike up a conversation. 'Why is a fine man like yourself up here, alone in the wilderness?'

'Oh. Well, it's a long story.'

'Well it's a long car trip into town. We have the time.'

Jeremiah sighed, not knowing where to begin his recount of events. 'Well, I was orignally travelling with my boyfriend. We were out on this big road trip adventure thing, and then we were going to go back to Ohio for a few months. We had a fight about 20 miles back. So, during this 'fantastic adventure' I got pissy with his whole 'yes of course I don't need a map, I know which way is north, I'm an awesome hiker, blah blah blah,' crap, and I told him to get over himself and admit we were lost. Sam got equally as angry and actually did manage to find his way back to our car, and I was following him, not far behind. He got in that piece of rusty tin of his and drove off on me, leaving me stranded!' Jeremiah's arms were crossed and his eyes narrowed, reliving the irritation towards his boyfriend.

'Tough break man. He sounds like a bit of a drama queen.'

'Tell me about it. He's absolutely gorgeous, he's the sweetest little nerd of a thing I've ever met. But he just gets these crazy ideas, and if you tell him 'no' he just flips.'

Kurt stayed quiet for a moment. 'You said you were from Ohio?'

'Yeah, I'm from Westerville. Sam's from Lima.'

'Sam Evans?'

Jeremiah turned to study Kurt's expression, a little confused. 'How did you know?'

To Jeremiah's surprise, Kurt let of a chuckle. 'I actually grew up in Lima. If it's the same Sam Evans we are talking about, we actually went to high school together. We were friends.'

Jeremiah said nothing. The silence was piercing for no less then 5 minutes before Kurt opened his mouth to speak again. 'But it was years ago. I haven't spoken to him since graduation... Besides, its probably a different Sam. Its a common name I guess.'

'Yeah. I guess it is.'

'So whereabouts in town did you say you wanted to be dropped off?' Kurt finally asked, trying to change the subject to something less awkward.

'Umm, I'm not sure. Know any motels?'

'You don't have a place to stay?'

'Not anymore,' Jeremiah sighed. 'Sam would of checked into the hotel room by now, and its booked under his name so I couldn't get in there even if he wasn't. So I guess I'll go find the cheapest room in this town I can get.'

'Well the cheapest one you can get is a free one. Tell you what, come back and stay at my place tonight. My boyfriend will be more then happy to have company, and we have a guest bedroom you can use. Save you a couple of bucks and possible contraction of rare jungle diseases from unhygenic motel rooms.'

Slightly lost for words, Jeremiah stared at the other man as his head was turned straight ahead and watching the road. 'Really?'

'Sure, why not? Its no big deal. Just helping out.'

'Wow... Really, thankyou Kurt, that'd be so helpful! You sure are great. Your boyfriend is lucky to have you.' Jeremiah reddened with the words. Kurt shot him another dimpled grin.

'He's luckier then he'll ever imagine.'

Kurt's words were delivered with that dark twang that Kurt was implying more then he was actually saying. Concern should of flooded over Jeremiah, but he was too thankful for Kurt's helpful ways to comment or take any real notice.

Kurt drove on towards the little secluded house on the outskirts of town as fast as the limit would allow, exchanging petty small talk with Jeremiah all the way.

Jeremiah felt safe. He honestly thought there was nothing to worry about. A nice man, with a nice car, a nice smile. As Kurt pulled up into the drive, Jeremiah saw the nice house which Kurt stated was where he lived. Stepping out of the car, and hurrying into the warmth of the foyer, Jeremiah saw who must of been Kurt's boyfriend. Despite his dark hair and eyes, he too appeared nice enough to reassure Jeremiah.

This was Jeremiah Wilson's first mistake.

* * *

Bingo.

As soon as Kurt had spotted that dripping mess of a hitch hiker he knew he had found the perfect toy.

He was quite obviously scared. Kurt could tell from his body language. His nervous banter.

Kurt was intimidating. He'd known it for years. But the hitch hiker was sitting on a new level of fear.

Kurt knew that this was going to be fun on that basis alone.

On inviting the drenched man into his car, Kurt was able to sneak a better glance. He seemed... familiar. That name... Jeremiah. It was familiar. But he couldn't place it.

But when Kurt had quizzed him innocently about his life. That's when the dark flame of a candle flared awake in the back of his mind. Kurt knew exactly who this man was.

It had been 10 or so years ago. In a GAP store in Ohio. Not long after he and Blaine had met. Blaine had tried to serenade a Jeremiah. And Kurt could feel the raging jealousy spring to life in his gut.

Jeremiah. The apple of Blaine's eye before Kurt had become the focus.

Something that in his childish mind had always angered him.

Even though Jeremiah had straight out rejected Blaine, Kurt still thought in green toward the man.

Revenge would really be as sweet as they say.

* * *

'Do you take tea or coffee Jeremiah? White or black?' Kurt's voice called from the kitchen. Jeremiah sat snug in a squishy leather arm chair in Kurt and Blaine's living room. Blaine sat in the chair across from him, flicking through television channels with the sound on mute, completely mindlessly.

'Uh, tea thanks Kurt. And yeah, white.' Jeremiah called back and a whistle from a kettle sounded the making of caffienated drinks. Jeremiah sat a little uncomfortable now that he was away from Kurt in the house, as Blaine had made no real attempt at conversation, or even acknowledging Jeremiah post the initial greeting. Maybe Blaine was just a quiet man, though his face wasn't shy. He merely seemed completely uninterested. As if Jeremiah were some kind of relative you tried your best to avoid at Christmas or someone else's pet when you yourself could not tolerate animals. So Jeremiah just sat, glancing about the elegant decor of the house. From it's walls to its rugs, everything was perfect.

Kurt bobbed his way back into the room, carrying a tray of three steaming mugs. Blaine took his first, no word of thankyou, silently going back to the television. Kurt offered Jeremiah his drink, and he took it with a smile, before gulping down the tea fast and tasted bitter. Kurt must of made it without any sugar. Jeremiah was sure he could survive.

That was Jeremiah's second mistake.

'So Jeremiah, since you're staying here with us tonight, how about we make this a little fun for us. I've got a game I'd like to play in mind if you're willing.' Kurt smiled devilishly, eyes sparkling with childish delight.

Jeremiah hesitated. 'Are we talking like Cluedo-board game type game, or some kind of kinky adult type game?' To his surprise both Blaine and Kurt laughed. Jeremiah wasn't even aware that Blaine had been listening, his eyes focused on the screen where he had found a hockey game, the sound still turned off.

'Are you opposed to either?' Kurt asked. Jeremiah mistook his tone for flirting. He smiled and shook his head, causing another giggle from a caffienated Kurt.

'Good, because we're already playing.'

Jeremiah was confused, when it hit him. The sudden pang of droziness. Eyelids drooping, neck becoming loose and flopping. He couldn't stop himself. The hot tea fell from his hand, spilling over his trouser leg, soaking through and burning the skin. He'd been drugged.

Jeremiah could no longer see. Feel. Think. He was physically numb, limp. Fear twisted like a deadly serpent in his stomach, ready to bite and inject a dosage of fear induced panic into his blood stream like venom. He heard only the echoed mumbling voices of the strangers he had carelessly trusted.

He slipped into true unconciousness only moments later, the true darkness he feared setting in all around him.

* * *

**Actually no.**

Jeremiah Wilson's first mistake was not trusting Kurt and Blaine. It was made many hours before he even met the couple.

He should of never let that outburst bewteen him and Sam occur. If he had not gotten angry at his boyfriend's wild ideas of adventure, he could of been snuggling into him in a lush hotel room right now. The perfect evening on such a stormy night.

**Instead, he wouldn't survive until morning.**

But Jeremiah cannot be blamed for this entire mess**.**

**To make mistakes, is only human.**


	3. Chapter Two: The Cold

**First, I want to apologise for such the long wait for the next chapter. I know, I know, it's been a while, but like I said, I only write this stuff on the side, as work, school and *gasp* social life~ usually come before this stuff. I'll try and write more often, but I've a couple of assignments due next week which I need to work on, so I finished this chapter because I know there will probably a longggggggg wait until the next. ahhhh, sorry... life. it gets in the way of delicious fanfiction sometimes.**

**Also, a WARNING: gore 'n shit in this chapter. I'm not very good at understanding how bad this is, but yeah warning the easily nauseous. I have never cringed at blood in my life so, idk. WARNING WARNING WARNING**

**hi enjoy**

* * *

It was cold when Jeremiah woke. It bit at his toes, prickled his back and hung all around him. In the air. Something warm lay upon his stomach. He could feel tiny breathing against his gut. For a single moment he believed he was back in his apartment in San Francisco. That he'd simply fallen asleep with the aircon running, and his little dog had curled up on his belly. Sam would be up early, cooking breakfast for the three of them in the kitchen. Sam adored their little Frankie, her soft fur and squeak of a bark. Jeremiah honestly thought that's where he was. That he was safe at home with the ones he loved.

But then he remembered the course of the night's events. Kurt, Blaine, devious smiles and laughter. The cliched lines from a horror movie about 'playing games'.

Jeremiah's eyes flew fully open, and he saw where he really was.

**Imagine a room. There is one light source. A glittering candle lit chandelier hanging from the ceiling. The crystals are barely throwing the lights of the flame about the room, the corners are still dark and uninviting. The images in the light are just as terrifying as the unknown dark. There are instruments of every design and shape, but they're not used for musical purposes. They are tools. For slicing. Disecting. Destroying.**  
**Your eyes flitter around the room. Your breath heightens, you attempt to call out for help. You see the man who helped you the last time you asked. Leaning over you with a wide, crazed expression. He is smiling. And you scream.**

**This was Jeremiah's reality.**

'Good to see you didn't sleep in Jeremiah!' Kurt's cheery tone pierced the air. Jeremiah cringed and struggled, before realising he was bound with thick black ropes to a long metal table, the rope scratching at his exposed skin, shirt removed. He wore only the his light acidwash jeans. No shirt, no shoes.

'What the... Where the hell am I?' Jeremiah's anxious cry was answered with a mere giggle passing Kurt's lips.

'What makes you think I'd tell you that. It'd ruin the game.'

Jeremiah, confused, angry and scared, twisted fiercely against his bonds. The little sound of breathing against his stomach stirred but did not move any further. 'Why are you doing this...?' Jeremiah needed some kind of answer. He had no idea what was happening. Kurt seemed alone. There was no sign of Blaine, or any other person for that matter.

'Because I feel like it. I was bored... I am in love. I have many reasons, I suppose...' Kurt's eyes were distant, staring into a dark corner with no real direction. For a long moment, there was silence. Jeremiah could of sworn that Kurt's face showed remembered pain, memories buried long ago, but now uncovered, stinging and swollen.

'You felt like it...?' Jeremiah stammered at last, inspired by a sudden embrace of courage. 'You just decided to pick up a hitch hiker, drug them, then strap them down in your basement because you were bored? You wanted to play this kind of sick game? What are you gonna do Kurt? Rape me?' Jeremiah continued to ramble, Kurt staring at him wide eyed and silent. 'Where is that creepy distant boyfriend of yours, Blaine? Doesn't he wanna stick around, huh? I wouldn't wanna stick around with you either. This is sick, you're sick, disgusting, fucking crazy little faggot.'

Kurt's head snapped upward, his eyes flamed with rage. He literally pounced. In a second he was on Jeremiah, crouching over him like an animal, upon the silver metal table, a growl rumbled deep in his throat as white fingers latched around the other's.

'What was that again?' Kurt's thumb pressed dangerously to Jeremiah's wind pipe, threatening to choke him.

That would of been a relief compared to what was to come.

'I-I'm s-orry, _glarphf_,' Jeremiah's choked words barely escaping his mouth, tears pricking in his eyes.

Kurt's grip loosened slightly. 'Don't ever. Use that word. Again. Especially coming from someone like you. Someone like _me_.' Jeremiah shuddered beneath his fingers.

'Don't ever compare me to you. I'm nothing like you!'

_Smack. _

Jeremiah's head came down hard against the metal, an instant reaction, a warning, and a preview, woven into one.

Again, and again, and again.

After the fourth impact, an olive hand came to rest upon Kurt's shoulder. Blue eyes flickered to it momentarily.

'Kurt, you'll ruin him.' Blaine spoke with finality.

Kurt's breathing was rough, but he let go of Jeremiah long enough to straddle his chest and pin him to the table even further, hands coming to rest either side of his face. Jeremiah was scared silent.

Kurt leaned in, as if to kiss the frightened man. His perfectly soft lips grazed over the imperfection's of Jeremiah's, before breathing sentences into Jeremiah's jaw. Kurt's breath was hot and heavy, sweet and bitter, like coffee and peppermint and anger.

'I've been waiting to do this from the very moment I first laid eyes on you, GAP guy.'

Kurt's hands found Jeremiah's face in a second, smacking hard against the metal for a fifth time. It was barely a second later before Kurt had swung himself over and off Jeremiah, going to stand next to Blaine who was motionless in the corner. Whimpering, Jeremiah just lay there, taking it all in. Kurt was insane. Clearly. But he was strong, fast. Intelligent, graceful. And fucking terrifying.

'Wait...' Jeremiah spluttered as he stared at the swinging chandelier, his head throbbing too much to possibly lift. 'If... if you're going to rape me or whatever, please, please just drug me again.'

'Sorry Honey, not my type.' Kurt's tone had changed. His voice was light and playful, and laced with that false apologetic drift. 'But Blaine on the other hand...' he trailed off, making eyes at the dark haired man who only looked confused.

'Okay! Lets get started, I'm beginning to get bored,' Kurt began, practically dancing around to the other side of the table. Blaine leaned back against a wooden bench opposite from where Kurt stood, leaning over Jeremiah's restraints. Long pale fingers became legs, walking themselves over the black knots, Kurt's sparkling eyes watching his own fingers on their journey. Jeremiah was afraid to breathe, as he watched as Kurt's fingers wandered over his body, and to the cloth covering something large on his stomach. Jeremiah's eyes widened. How had he not noticed the box like shape attatched to his abdomen? Kurt's crazed assult was a reasonable enough distraction he assured himself, before he went back to questioning it's appearance.

Kurt's hands reached the dark cloth covering the shape, with a moment of suspense building hesitation and a sharp flick of his wrist, the cloth was removed to reveal a large glass box, a cage. Inside, lay a sleeping creature. The transparent prison harboured a large albino rat. Jeremiah gasped, flinching hard, and rocking the creature from it's slumber against his stomach.

'Oh my fucking god, get that thing off of me!' Jeremiah screeched in a moment of hysteria. The rat was slowly, groggigly awakening, beady red eyes glancing around as if it were aware of the presence of others, but unable to see or hear them.

'Calm down, he can't even see you, don't worry.' Blaine reassured the frightened hostage. 'That's why you wanted that cage wasn't it Kurt.' Blaine added smiling at his boyfriend across the room.

Kurt's face lit up in a grin at the first sign of approval from Blaine, that simple smile. 'Of course! So Jeremiah, as Blaine says, Antony can't hear you, or see you. All he sees is... well, nothing. The walls on his side of the box are a dark blue, appart from your stomach of course. We can see in, through the clear outer shell, but he can't look out! But that's not even the best part yet.' If it was even possible for Kurt's grin to grow any wider, it happened, his whole face aglow as he described out his plan. 'This is the fun part, you ready?'

Kurt's hands stroked each side of the glass blox in one sweeping movement, opening small holes along all sides. The openings where big enough for something to be added, an interference, but not wide enough for an escape.  
'Blaine, pass that iron. Be careful, its hot.'

Blaine silently passed the long rod, the tip glowing a firey amber, holding and passing it gentley to Kurt. Kurt took it into his hands, twirling it expertiedly between his fingers, avoiding burns as if the poker weren't even alive with heat. Smiling cruelly, he looked down upon Jeremiah, who's eyes where unknowningly leaking fat tears. Antony sat quietly in his box, cleaning his paws and twitching bloodred eyes every few seconds. With a laugh and a swift movement, Kurt rammed the hot iron into one of the opened holes in the side of the box, and straight into the animal's side.

There was a shriek of pain from the rat, as he twisted in reaction, clawing Jeremiah's stomach as he moved. Jeremiah let out a sharp cry from the scratches, every set of human eyes in the dark room focussing on the deep red lines in Jeremiah's flesh. Kurt toyed with the iron in his hand for another moment, before choosing a hole on the opposite side of the box, ramming it in sharply for a second time. Again, the rat screamed and scratched, and Jeremiah cried out. _This is going exactly how I planned it would!_ Kurt's mind was alive with pleasant thoughts.

'So Jeremiah, long story short, this is how I am going to kill you. I will continue to aggrovate this rat, he will have no possible way to escape, _except_ if he burrows his way out. And the only way he can do that is if he goes through you. And I assure you, he will. Antony will be overrun with natural instinct. He wants, no, _needs_ to get out. Your innards are the one thing in the way of his freedom.'

Faster and deadlier than before, Kurt's hand guided the poker through a different hole each time to strike at the creature. The tormented animal was never quick enough to dodge the fire stick, screeching with every encounter. Jeremiah's skin quickly became drenched in red, cries of torment, pain and of delight attacking the air in twisted combinations.

Blaine sat back and watched. Secretly, he was itching. Aching, to get involved. But Kurt needed this more than him. Kurt needed a kill on his own, to get it out of his system. Blaine would assist when Jeremiah was dead. Blaine would put the rat to sleep, and then dump the body. He covered the tracks, because he was careful. Well, atleast more cafeful then Kurt. Kurt acted on his urges, always wanting to do it now not later, and never wanting to clean up afterwards. Standard child-like behaviour. Never wanting to deal with the consequences.  
Blaine didn't mind too much. Watching the destruction was almost as fun.

'C'mon Antony, hurry, up, and, get, yourself, out!' Kurt grunted each world with another jab of the iron. Finally, the poor rat cracked, and with a yelp sunk it's teeth, claws and instinct into Jeremiah's stomach, tearing through flesh frantically. Jeremiah's blood curdling scream only encouraged more of the torture, Kurt poking at Antony even faster then before.

The rest is predictable. There is a lot of blood, and a lot of screaming. A white body becomes red, and the number of undamaged souls in the room falls back down to nil.

'Why me?' Jeremiah screams, his abdomen ripped apart and bleeding as he breathes thick and desperate. Kurt smiles wickedly, crystal blue eyes cold and threatening. He opened his mouth to speak, calmly.

'You want to know the truth? At first, you were only meant to be a pass time. A bit of fun. But then... I realised who you were. I knew you a long time ago. Actually, both of us did. Blaine and I. Blaine, knew you better of course. I only met you once. But, first impressions are a funny thing aren't they... Jeremiah... Junior Manager of the GAP...' Blaine's face was confused with the realisation of who Jeremiah was. He'd finally caught on...

'What the fuck? I swear I've never seen either of you before in my life? I worked at the GAP for a little while... until... oh my god.' Grey eyes flicked around frantically.

'Bit of blast from the past eh, Jeremiah? Yep, remember Valentine's Day, 2011. 10 years ago. The day, you stole my love away from me. I thought I'd never get him back again... but I managed to. But for those moments of confusion and devastation your little blonde head put me through... Well, consider this, my revenge.'

For the first time, Blaine's face displayed a look of protest, of shock, but he did not speak up as he watched Kurt's arm as it rose high above his head, swinging it down to strike Jeremiah across the temple. The force of the blow knocked Jeremiah out cold, the impact breaking the skin and skull, adding more blood to the sea of red that covered Jeremiah's body. The iron rod was still burning hot. If Jeremiah was not dead already, it wouldn't be long until he well and truly was.

There was silence. The raspy breathing escaping Kurt's bloodsplattered figure and the terrified squeak from the rodent cowering in a dead man's corpse were the only thing reminding them what had just occurred.

'We knew him.' Blaine spoke quietly after a long while.

'So, we killed him, it doesn't matter know.'

'We knew him Kurt. We agreed, that if we did this, we'd never kill someone we knew.'

Kurt's face was hurt as he looked over to Blaine, who's head was hung and staring at Jeremiah's broken face. 'But that was years ago, you didn't even know who he was until I said-'

'That's not the point!' Blaine snapped timidly. 'You broke the rules, Kurt. Just... just go get cleaned up. I'll deal with this. We can talk later, okay?'

Kurt's expression danced between anger and disappointment. 'Fine,' he said softly as he slammed down the poker he still clenched in his hand, stalking upstairs. with a slam of the basement door.

Blaine reached behind him for a long syringe filled with pale blue liquid. Gentley, he located the traumatised rat amongst the blood, and injected the poor creature with the deadly toxin. After a minute, Antony's eyes closed and his heavy body grew limp. Carefully, Blaine scooped him out of the bloody mess, and placed his body in an open garbage bag. With a sigh, he turned to dispose of the human body, cleaning as he went. Every surface stunk of pure alcohol, as the last fragment of evidence leading to Kurt's playtime was tied up into a thick black plastic bag. Blaine dragged the bags through a side door, and into a dark car, unregistered and with black tinted windows. Piling the body bags into the back, he hopped into the drivers side, reversing out of the driveway and back onto the high way.

* * *

45 minutes later, the waxy half moon hanging dull and cold in the sky, Jeremiah Wilson's body was dumped and arranged deep in the heart of the surrounding forest, not far from where he was orignally picked up. _Bear Maulling;_ if ever found, that's what the headlines would read. It didn't happen too often, but it was a likely story. Past tomorrow, it wouldn't even matter. The real murderers would be cross state, back in Ohio. No one would even think to suspect the pleasant gay couple that lived the next town over from where the victim was discovered anyway. There was nothing to worry about.

With a final look and a sigh Blaine turned to go trek back to the car. The night was pitch black and freezing, but Blaine knew his way around these woods, he could navigate his way back to the warmth and the light.

* * *

Kurt paced the tiled floor of the kitchen, awaiting anxiously Blaine's return. He wanted to apologise, swear that he would never do it again, get on his hands and knees and _beg_ if that was what was needed to get Blaine's forgiveness. Though Kurt Hummel did not beg for anyone, his absolutely everything would become the first exception.

The door opened and closed with a click, and footsteps entered the hall. Kurt spun to face Blaine as he suddenly appeared in the doorway, sliding off a thick jacket and hanging it on the peg.

'Hi.'

'Hi.' Kurt stared anxiously into Blaine's hazel eyes. Blaine kept up a perfect poker face all the while.

'I'm sorry,' Kurt started but Blaine raised his hand to stop him.

'Don't apologise. It's over, okay? Lets just move on.'

'But I really thought it's be okay, I mean, he broke your heart. Didn't you kinda wanna get him back?'

'I don't think like you Kurt. I think about things rationally, maturely. You don't... Don't get affended now. It's just, the truth.' Blaine walked past Kurt, headed towards the small flight of stairs that led upstairs.

'Wait,' Kurt blurted causing Blaine to double back. 'I-I.. What can I do to make it up to you.'

Blaine turned around and came back towards Kurt to face him directly. 'Honestly? You need to stop this. We, need to stop this. This senseless killing. Sure, its fun, but we're not kids anymore Kurt. It's getting harder. I'm sick of moving away every few months. I wanna settle down, start a family with you. We're heading back to Lima tomorrow. I... I want to be able to stay there. Can you promise me, that we will never have to pack up and leave again?' Blaine's words were sincere. 'Please? Promise me that there will be no more murder. No more death. Ever.'

Kurt bit at his lip, hesitating. Blaine's eyes fell for a fragment of a second before Kurt grabbed his face in his hand, kissing him full on the lips. Lingering for a long moment, Kurt pulled away. 'I promise Blaine. I swear, I will never do it again. I love you too much, and I know this hurts you. I'm sorry.'

Blaine smiled at his love. He leaned in for a quick kiss before turning back to head upstairs again. 'Thankyou Kurt. I love you, goodnight. It's been a long evening, going to head to bed.'

'Goodnight Blaine.' Kurt's eyes looked over as Blaine walked away, full of sadness.

**Giving up something you love, for someone you love, is sometimes necessary in a relationship. Kurt knew this. Blaine knew this.**  
**Kurt also knew, that Blaine had his secrets. Blaine didn't know Kurt knew of them. Kurt knew a lot more then he ever let on.**  
**Kurt decided he would try. He didn't believe in heaven or hell or God, but he new his soul had been tainted beyond repair. Haulting his favourite pass time might do him some good.**  
**But in the back of his mind, Kurt knew he could keep a secret perfectly when the time came.**

* * *

**AN: Just want to let you guys know, I do not find the torture of animals amusing in the slightest. Before I get a shitload of comments about animal abuse and welfare on this chapter, I'd like to point out I am a vegetarian, and selective vegan. I am a huge supporter of animal rights, and I literally love all animals. So, just don't get up my ass about the rat thing. It's a torture method my friend's and I mentioned during a discussion in one of our lunch hours. ~ideas for fics sprouting from everyday life~**


	4. Chapter Three: The Calm

**Oh my god. First, I want to apologise for HOW FREAKIN' LONG it's been since an update! Over 2 months... I'm really sorry.  
I've had exams, assignments, birthdays, parties, hangovers -lol-, life, dance eisteddfods, and just life in general.  
But I seriously hope for those who actually read this story, that this will satisfy you! Its kind of a boring chapter, just again, setting up more events etc. I know exactly where this is going now, in full detail, so hopefully I'll get to writing during my moments of free time. But I have art school, more eisteddfods and assignments in the near future so I really don't know.. Updates are always going to be slow. SORRY! I really hope no one lives off this fic the way I live off some and die inside every day I have to wait for an update.  
Oh well.  
Lets gooooooo!**

* * *

As the first warm rays of early morning sun snuck through the drawn curtains of each of the little cream houses that dotted the streets of the town, a scrawny teenage boy made about on his rounds. Weaving between letterboxes and greening hedges, the dull thud of heavy paper landing awkwardly on damp grass following him. His bike, shiny and red - sparkling with newness in the eyes of any given bystander, moved silently. His asthmatic breathing was only accompanied with the thuds of delivery and the twittering of early birds hidden in their nests. He rounded the next street corner, onto the road of newly developed houses, standing boxlike and frozen in a dream state, not yet awoken on the early Sunday morning. The boy rode onwards, skipping every few houses as they were not yet inhabited before slowing to an almost stop, in front of the one house that seemed out of place on the newly named Athleene Crescent. Number 35. The huge manor looked down upon the rest of the street with superiority acquired only with age. Chest heaving, he stepped off his bike, pushing it towards the old house. An off white picket fence surrounded the front yard, closing off the steep stone steps leading to the long porch that circled the house. The walls were made from deep maroon bricks, piled together roughly, yet elegantly. The windows were large and spotless, drapes thrown across the inside glass to stop unwanted eyes venturing inside. The upper level was just as grand as the bottom. The house was perfect, a keepsake of olden architecture, planted smack in the middle of this new age street. The longing to gaze upon the interior for a change haunted the boy, but he knew who lived in the perfect house. Forgetting his want, he propped his bike up next to the fence, grabbing a newspaper out of his shoulder bag, and gently opened the gate and headed to the front steps. On request, he was to deliver the paper to the door. He purposely arrived in the early hours to avoid the possibility of encountering the house's owners. Part of him wanted to meet them, maybe as a way to venture inside their house, but the other part of him wanted to stay clear of them completely. They were as intimidating as their grand house. Walking slowly and carefully, being sure not to make too much noise, he reached the porch; newspaper shaking slightly in hand and out of breath from the climb. Eyes directed at the ground, he went to sit the paper on the mat, when he noticed a pair of fancy sleek shoes tapping slightly out of habit. The boy's head shot up and his gaze met that of the crystal eyed owner of the manor. His brown hair was neat and swept away from his face, he wore a loosened blue tie under a tight buttoned waistcoat with a pale blue dress shirt; sleeves pulled up to the elbows. Dark grey pants that clung tightly to his legs and of course, the shoes. He sat on the stone bench that looked out onto the street from the porch. Purple shadows beneath his eyes suggested he had not slept. With a smile he turned towards the alarmed boy who clutched the newspaper tightly in his fist. ''Morning,' came the man's voice, rough from disuse, but higher than the norm for a grown man.

'...Good morning sir,' the timid response came from the boy. Wide eyed he stared at the man who had startled him with his presence. Another smile. An attempt to console him.

'I take it that is for me?' He asked out stretching his hand to take the rolled up paper. The paper boy hesitated before handing him the newsprint. 'Thank you,' said the man before unfolding the scrolled pages to glimpse at the cover. He began to read, a frown of concern darkening his tired face. The paper boy watched, unmoving. A moment passed. 'Don't you have other papers to deliver?' The man finally asked at last. With a confused nod he stumbled back down the steps, hurling open the front gate before grabbing his bike and taking off down the remainder of the street. On his porch, the man shook his head, before uncrossing his legs to stand, making his way into the house with his newspaper. Once inside, he wandered, walking around in small circles, upstairs and back down, until another man, dressed in a loose fitting t-shirt and boxer shorts staggered his way into the kitchen.

'Kurt... what's wrong babe? It's like 6am... What's all the fuss about?' Blaine asked groggily from sleep. Kurt merely glared at Blaine's unshaven face, ice eyes on fire, before throwing the newspaper down onto the counter between them, then turning to make a pot of coffee. Blaine's eyes widened at the headline, mouth falling open slightly. 'Shit Kurt...'

The front page of the newspaper blared a headline in huge bold lettering. _MISSING MAN VICTIM OF BEAR MAULLING. _The large photo of Jeremiah Wilson's smiling face looked up at them in black and white. Blaine's eyes scanned through the report. _Last sighted by partner Sam Evans, 26, on December 12__th__ 2021, in the woods where they had been hiking. Discovered Friday evening in the middle of the same woods, not far from where he was last sighted. Unseasonable time for bear attacks. Hibernation disturbance patterns leading to human death: another cause of Global Warming?_

'So they found him... at last.' Blaine's voice was heavy as Kurt wordlessly poured him coffee in his favourite mug.

'At least they believed it was a bear. Nice work Blaine,' Kurt smiled taking a long sip of his coffee. Blaine breathed a single chuckle, re-reading the article again.

'Well at least Sam has some closure now. I doubt he will hold the funeral in Lima, he'll take it back to San Fran, or Westerville. Think we should attend?' Blaine asked with eager eyes.

'I think if I did I might even feel some kind of remorse! Actually no, that's just ridiculous; it's me we're talking about. Maybe we should still go, show our support for little Sammie.'

'It's going to be a little morbid isn't it? A funeral, then an engagement party in the same few days.' Blaine sipped at his mug.

'I have been planning this party for a month Blaine, we are not rescheduling for someone's death, even if it was something we caused. I have a reputation to maintain, and that is one of fabulous mood lifting parties, not of depressing wakes.'

Blaine laughed, shaking his head of messy curls, finishing the last of his pick me up, before heading upstairs to shower and get ready. Kurt followed quickly after, not wanting to miss a chance to bathe with the love of his life.

**A number of things had changed in the last 4 months since Jeremiah Wilsons' 'disappearance'.  
There had been a movement by two parties. Blaine and Kurt had moved back to Ohio.  
Sam Evans, unknowingly a widower, had also moved back to the familiar atmosphere of Lima.  
There had been and engagement.  
There had also been a silence.  
No innocent blood had been spilt by the two murderers since returning to Home Sweet Home.  
But silence is made to be broken.**

* * *

The boy on the gleaming red bike continued his rounds, curving around street corners and onto nature strips dropping off the bombshell of Jeremiah's death to each resident of Lima, Ohio. One of the final houses he came to deliver to, four blocks away on Church Street was swarmed by police cars. He knew who lived there, in fact he knew where almost everybody in the community lived, as most people in small towns did. This was his younger sister's first grade teacher, Mr. Evans' house. He was a nice guy, with mousey brown hair styled messily on purpose. So why the hell were the cops at his place? Too afraid of being caught to investigate, he threw down the newspaper, before peddling away as fast as he could.

* * *

It was around 1:00pm when Kurt and Blaine got the telephone call.

'Hey guys, its Sam. Do you mind if I came over? I-I just got some news... about Jeremiah. I need my friends right now,' the quiet shaky voice of Sam Evans murmured through the phone.

'Oh Sammie, of course! We saw it in the paper today. Come over right away, Blaine and I aren't doing anything important, just a few party things but that can wait,' Kurt's voice drenched with sympathy and understanding, but his eyes smirking playfully.

'Thank you so much guys. It means so much to me, truly.' Sam replied sincerely, with another supportive comment from Kurt, before they ended the conversation by hanging up the receiver.

'Sam is coming over then?' Blaine asked from the couch, as he flicked through a small notepad of guests to their party, double checking who had RSVPed and who hadn't.

'Yup, he'll be only a few minutes away. My plan is to act like we care about Jeremiah's death and all that jazz. I refuse to help with the funeral though.' Kurt said sinking down next to Blaine. Blaine nodded, attention fully occupied by the list before him. Kurt leaned into his fiancée, eyes quickly darting down the list of names. He had only glimpsed his own father's name before Blaine shrugged away from him, standing swiftly and heading into the kitchen. Kurt's eyes instantly narrowed, glaring into Blaine's back as he walked away. It was these small acts on Blaine's behalf, the unintentional knocking back of advancements and the tight lipped secrecy, that made the histrionic killer tick, but his overwhelming love for the man always overran his irritation.  
It was barely a moment since Kurt's brief whim of anger passed when the door bell chimed, alerting them both to their mourning friend outside on the porch.

'I'll get it Blaine,' Kurt said hurrying to get the door. Blaine began to shuffle his way out of the kitchen as Kurt threw open the mahogany wood to see the messy mousey brown head of hair belonging to Sam Evans. Sam's head raised to look Kurt in the eyes, his own eyes red and puffy from crying. Kurt didn't get the chance to offer his sympathy before Sam had thrown himself into his arms, sobbing uncontrollably into Kurt's sweater. Kurt rocked, hushed and ushered the distraught man inside and into the living room, before signalling to Blaine to fetch a stiff drink and three glasses.

'It's my fault, it's all my fault!' Sam sniffed between large swallows of scotch. Kurt's hand was rubbing small, comforting circles into his lower back with sad eyes, while Blaine sat on the opposite seat disagreeing with Sam's statements and refilling their glasses.

'No Sammie, no. It's no one's fault. It was an accident. He was lost; he must have wandered into a bear while it was hunting or something. Don't you dare blame your self.' Blaine's encouraging words made Kurt smirk in his mind, knowing how Blaine's motivational speeches could of earned him a rewarding career as a life coach, or something as equally as optimistic. Also, the fact that Blaine was speaking complete and utter _bullshit_ about the whole ordeal being an "accident" caused Kurt to have to bite his lip from bursting out into a fit of hysterical laughter. It was all just far too hilarious for Kurt to handle. Blaine shot him a few warning glances whenever his poker face looked as if it were to slip, but fortunately, Sam spent most of the afternoon staring into the bottom of his drink. It seemed hours had passed, when finally; Sam stood, a little wobbly, and thanked them both for looking after him in his "hour of need". With a hiccup, Sam stumbled for the door, before Blaine and Kurt caught him and helped him down the steps.

'There is NO way you are in any fit state to drive Mr. Evans,' Kurt lectured as he loaded Sam into the passenger side of his car. 'Blaine will drive you home, and I'll follow behind in my car to drive him home.' Clicking Sam in with his seatbelt he slammed the door and waved him goodbye and Blaine buckled into the driver's seat. The car pulled away, Kurt in no hurry to follow.

It was only a five minute drive to Sam's house in Church Street. Blaine used the few stolen moments alone with Sam to ask him a few questions he would never risk to ask in front of Kurt.

'So, Sam... Have you thought about funeral arrangements yet?' Blaine asked, eyes focused on the road. Sam gurgled loudly before answering.

'Um, Jeremiah's parents and handling most of it, I'm just inviting people I guess.' He paused. 'They didn't know many of his friend's y'see...'

'Oh, right.' Blaine continued to stare ahead. 'Sam?'

Yessumblaine,' slurred Sam.

'Do you remember Rachel Berry?' There was silence.

'How could I forget?' Sam smiled to himself. 'I haven't seen her in forever. I wonder if she still dresses like a toddler...'

'Well, I'm not entirely sure about that part Sam, but...' Blaine hesitated, turning into Church Street. 'You should invite her. To the funeral.'

Sam said nothing as Blaine pulled into the drive way. 'Okay, that would be a good idea, I think.'

'Good thinking,' Blaine grinned, stepping out of the car and assisting Sam out and to the door.

'Thank you Blaine. You and Kurt both. You guys are awesome, okay?' Sam smiled fumbling with the key in the lock before twisting it and opening up the house. Blaine nodded and turned to leave before he felt Sam grab his face between his hands. Bringing Blaine's lips roughly to his own, he smooched his friend's face, drunk and sloppy, as an expression of gratitude. Kurt's shiny black hybrid pulled up opposite the house just as Sam broke away from the kiss. Blaine laughed and said his farewells, heading towards Kurt's car, thinking nothing of Sam's drunken gesture.  
As soon as Blaine closed the door to the hybrid, Kurt's foot slammed on the gas, revving the car violently and quickly away from the house.

**They away drove in silence.  
One of them, fuming with rage so violent and savage, that it took all their self control not to destroy everything then and there. Jealously licked at his veins, eating at his innards.  
The other, sat in false innocence, planning on ignoring the obvious problem at hand. A skilful tactic to avoid confrontation. But poison to honesty.  
They arrived home in silence. One wanting to prove his revenge. The other, wanting to uphold his faithful facade.**

Blaine bounded through the door first, followed closely by Kurt. Kurt pitched the car keys onto the small table in the entrance hall, before lunging at Blaine. Blaine let out a yelp, which was quickly silenced by Kurt's mouth against his own, fiery, hungry and hot. Kurt pinned Blaine roughly to the wall, biting Blaine's bottom lip with sadistic force. There was a growl in Kurt's throat, deep and animalistic, as he kissed Blaine deeper, rocking his hips into Blaine where he was pinned to the wall. Kurt broke away momentarily to gain his breath. Blaine was wide eyed with surprise, an eager flicker in his eyes. Kurt slammed his full body to Blaine, the picture frames on the walls shaking from the force. Kurt's voice was dark and serious as he spoke words simple enough for Blaine to understand under any circumstances.  
'You're. Mine.'  
Blaine nodded, pulling Kurt back to him, kissing him just as fiercely as Kurt had before.

* * *

Three days later, Jeremiah Wilson's funeral was held at the local chapel. One hundred and eighteen family, friends, and members of the public came to pay their respects to his passing. Sam sat in tears in the front row with Jeremiah's parents. Smiling photos of a man with wild blonde hair surrounded the altar and coffin. The coffin was fixed closed, either empty or filled with shredded remains, no one was sure. Kurt liked to think that they still sat torn and broken and bloody out in that forest, a snack for a _real_ bear or another wild creature. Blaine squeezed Kurt's hand the moment he felt Kurt was going to chuckle, reminding him where they were.  
The service was lovely. Simple, but lovely. Jeremiah was cremated in the end, and his ashes were taken with Sam to be scattered across the Golden Gate Bridge in San Francisco. The crowd of people who had attended the funeral were slowly filing out of the chapel in silence, when Kurt and Blaine both heard the cocky _click-click_ of high-heeled shoes strutting against wooden floors. The both turned to see a pocket sized brunette in an over-sized, flimsy, black, wide-brimmed hat, black funeral lace covering her eyes elegantly. Glittering black jewellery wrapped around her wrists, and lacquered black nails held an expensive black clutch in her thin hands. Tight red satin stuck to the woman's body cutting off short to reveal two long tanned legs in black stilettos. There was a murmur of voices, and few recognising gasps and a squeal of excitement. The Brunette's hair fell in ringlets down her back, sleek and shiny and perfect. Kurt's eyes widened in astonishment. Blaine's face lit up in glee.  
A devil in a red dress had appeared at a funeral. The Brunette lifted her head to eye Kurt and Blaine mischievously, biting her lip in anticipation. Rachel Berry grinned at her best friends in high school, _her_ Kurt and Blaine. It'd been almost 7 years since their last meeting.  
She threw her arms around the pair as she approached; embracing them as if nothing at all had changed between them in 7 years.

**Only a lot of things had changed.  
Rachel Berry has achieved her dreams, but with an added catch she had never expected.  
She had grown up, grown wise, grown into herself.  
She had grown from the good little girl she had been, into the deviant woman she was today.  
A life of secrets and lies can turn anyone into a demon.**


	5. Chapter Four: The Truth

**This chapter probably sucks because I just wanted to get it out of the way and all that shit I'm sorry I don't even have a life to use as an excuse for not writing, but I swear all I do is study and have rehearsal and meetings and auditions and I start college next year and I'm so keen and yeah. I'm much too busy for a 16 year old. **

* * *

If you were living in the year 2021 without knowing who Rachel Barbra Berry was, you must have been living under a rock or with no access to the modern world. Or in one of those Amish communities Or you were completely and utterly oblivious to everything around you, especially if you lived in Lima, Ohio.

**A short biography of the pint-sized performer:**

**Rachel Berry got her first big break in 2016, at age 21.**

**She won the role of Elphaba in the film adaption of the Broadway Musical,**_** Wicked.**_

**She received an Oscar nomination for the role, won a Golden Globe and quickly became the most talked about actress of the time.**

**Countless films, plays and awards later, she is now 26 and has got everything the Ohio-born actress set out to achieve.**

**She also manages to keep her private life completely out of the spotlight.**

So every person in the small town of Lima was completely star struck when she came strutting into a local man's funeral.

Though no one was more surprised than Kurt Hummel and Blaine Anderson, her once best friends, who had not seen her since she dropped out of their New York college 7 years ago without a trace.

'Rachel? What... what are you doing here?' Kurt stammered completely wide-eyed at the tiny girl, no woman, who had suddenly appeared before them. Rachel's grin was bright and teasing, enjoying Kurt's discomfort.

'I'm back for the funeral of course! When Sam called me up the other night to invite me to the funeral as support, I couldn't leave my Sammie... I had to come. I flew in as soon as possible; I told the director of my current film that it was a family emergency... Which it is.' Rachel ended, not even hesitating during her story for air. Blaine and Kurt just stared at her. Kurt, silently judging Rachel, and Blaine, just silent.

'That's crazy, you haven't spoken to any of us for years, and you still call us family?' Kurt asked dryly.

'Families are there for each other no matter what. Glee club was my family until I graduated and went on to bigger and better things. Sam is hurting, so I needed to be here to support him, Kurt. It's not exactly hard to understand...'

Kurt glared. 'You didn't even talk to Sam, and when you did you accused him of cheating with me on Blaine...'

Rachel laughed, bumping into both of their sides from in between them where she stood. 'Nonsense! We went to Junior Prom together, we're practically married!' Even Kurt laughed at this, before pulling Rachel into a tight embrace. Blaine did nothing. No laughter, no hug. He eyed them awkwardly before walking away without a second glance.

Kurt's eyes followed him as he disappeared into the stream of exiting people. Slowly, the crowd of funeral goers was diminishing, heading towards Sam Evans' home for the wake. Blaine was probably heading there as well. _Typical Blaine,_ Kurt thought, _following everyone's lead. You wouldn't want to make a decision on your own now, would you darling._

'So, you're still with Blaine? That's quite an achievement…' Rachel said smiling cheerily up at her old friend. Kurt's smile in response was less bright.

'Yes, our tenth year anniversary is this Saturday actually.'

'Ooh! Congratulations to you both! I've never been able to hold down anyone that long… haven't had a steady relationship since I was with Finn back in high school… Anyway, are you too planning anything special?' Rachel was genuinely curious. Kurt sighed.

'Actually, our engagement party is this Saturday…'

Rachel's eyes grew wide in surprise. 'And where was my invitation!' Excitement soaked her words.

'I don't know, where has your friendship been these last few years Rachel? Neither Blaine nor I have seen you since you dropped out of school 7 years ago. Where the hell did you go?'

Kurt glared down at the tiny woman. Her face had become serious and all evidence of the prior excitement had vanished.

'Things happened back then. I don't regret them at all, but… I'm sorry I left. Especially without saying anything to you first. I wish I could change that. The thing is, I'm here now. I've missed you.'

Kurt didn't get the chance to retaliate before her arms were around his neck, hugging him tightly. Politely, he returned the favour, holding her lightly. She broke away, her eyes slightly glassy.

'C'mon, we better head to Sam's. You can ride with me,' she took his hand and led him outside, where he spied the dark limousine parked across the street. A tall chauffer opened the doors as they approached, both of them nodding in thanks. They drove in silence, until they arrived outside the Evans residence. Rachel turned to face Kurt. 'Your party Saturday better be less dreary or I may murder you.' Rachel giggled as she stepped out of the car.

'Believe me, I may beat you to it if it is,' Kurt murmured under his breath as he followed. 'And I'd do all the guests a favour and kill them too.'

* * *

Saturday morning soon came around. It started the same as any other Saturday morning. Kurt was awake at the crack of dawn; Blaine lazed about in bed until a much more reasonable hour. They ate breakfast with murmurs of 'I love you' and with a fresh pot of coffee. This morning though, with Blaine being the hopeless romantic he was, he had returned from his morning run sporting a huge bouquet of white lilies. 'Your favourite,' he said as he gave them to Kurt, placing a chaste kiss upon his nose. Kurt blushed lightly, pulling out a large glass vase to keep them in.

'Ten years. Can you believe it?' Kurt contemplated, admiring his fiancée and his flowers.

'I know.'

'I can't believe how we managed to remain together. I guess we were meant to be.'

'It looks like it.'

'I mean, not one little break up along the way, not a single act of unfaithfulness. I love you so much Blaine. I know we're going to be together, forever.'

Blaine hesitated. 'I know we are baby.'

Kurt pretended to not notice Blaine's hesitance.

**But the thing is, Kurt notices **_**everything.**_

* * *

'Okay, Frances, I'm sorry! I'm not going to be back in L.A until tomorrow okay? I'm meeting up with some old friends today and it may be a late one, and you know how I feel about plane travel that late at night. I've got a 9am flight booked for Sunday. I'll call you when I've landed.' Rachel Berry ended her conversation on a flat note before hanging up the phone. It was barely 2 in the afternoon, but Rachel looked as if she hadn't slept in days. Glancing at herself in the mirror of her hotel room she made a disgusted noise, reaching for her makeup. Rachel began to transform herself into the beautiful woman she was to the world. Half an hour later her face, hair and clothing was flawless, as she smiled at her own reflection. Her eyes focussed on the tiny figure behind her, sleeping soundly on the huge bed. Rachel turned, creeping over to rock the little body awake. 'Hey baby girl, wake up.'

The dark haired girl slowly stirred awake, rubbing at her eyes. After a moment big hazel eyes creaked open to look up at Rachel.

'Nap time is over sweetie, we are going to a party! Won't that be fun?' Rachel cooed, helping the little girl up. She yawned, her mouth opening wide to reveal a few missing teeth.

'Whose party is it?' The little girl asked as Rachel fetched a small blue party dress out of a drawer for her.

'Someone's who I think needs to meet you.' Rachel began to brush out the mess of brown curls that was the girl's hair as she began to change into the clothes Rachel had given her.

'Will there be games? And cake?'

'I hope so,' Rachel said slyly.

* * *

Everything was perfect. Kurt looked around at the room full of guests, laughing, socialising with drinks in their hands. They were enjoying themselves. The soft sounds of jazz wavered from the speakers. This was a party Kurt Hummel could be proud off.

'Kurt!' He turned at the sound of his name. An Asian couple stood before him. 'Thank you for inviting us, buddy.'

Mike and Tina Chang's smiles were warm and grateful. Kurt hugged Tina, kissing her check, before shaking Mike's hand. 'It's nothing, I was so glad you could come! I mean, I realise how busy you two must be, considering the competition season is almost over…'

'Oh, it's fine. One night away from the dance studio isn't going to break us. We've got Nationals next weekend but all our dancers are in the perfect position to win. The Chang Dance Force is going to be the overall champions for another year running.' Mike casually boasted about his and Tina's dance company they had started after college.

'I've heard many great things about it. After Blaine and I are officially married and start to have children, you can be sure that we'll be sending them for classes as soon as they can stand. Baby ballet here we come!'

'You and Blaine would be the world's biggest Dance Dads; I can just see it now.' Tina laughed.

'As long as Blaine doesn't want to get in the studio and dance along with them, I'll be fine with it.' Mike and Tina soon spied an actually parent of one of their favoured students, and bounced off hand in hand to chat.

Kurt glanced around the guests. Blaine had been missing for some time now, leaving Kurt to mingle and host alone. Walking through the halls, he couldn't seem to find his fiancée anywhere. A couple wandered past him and onto the back patio, where Kurt soon realised was were Blaine had been hiding.

And he wasn't alone.

Blaine Anderson sat with Sam Evans, a little too close for it to be considered platonic, their hands clasped together and their foreheads touching. They were in close conversation, whispering to each other softly.

Kurt stared. They had not noticed his presence yet. Kurt stood in the door way, unable to move.

_Time to tear. Break, rip, destroy. Fire, yes fire and poison and a fucking axe. Kill him slow and make it hurt. Who will I make scream more? I want him dead. Now, no, soon. Not yet. I don't want to wait! Not yet, Kurt._

_Not yet. _

Kurt slid the door open walking out onto the wooden patio. Immediately, Blaine and Sam separated.

'Hey, there you two are! I thought you'd disappeared into thin air!' Kurt's tone was thick with sarcasm. 'Come back inside won't you? Blaine, you're being very rude, avoiding all our guests.' Kurt grabbed his hand to pull him away from Sam. 'Mike and Tina are missing a dance competition especially, at least acknowledge them!' As soon as Kurt and Blaine were back inside the house, Kurt practically threw him at the wall.

'Ow, hey, what the hell?' Blaine said, anger beginning to boom in his voice.

'I thought I told you, you are mine.'

'I know that Kurt, this _is_ our engagement party after all.'

'Don't forget it again, or I may forget our little agreement.'

'Kurt, you can't-'

'Don't tell me what I can and can't do.'

'But you can tell me what I can and can't do, isn't that right.'

'Grow up Blaine. We know this works because we love each more than anything, that's the bottom line. Now go out there, and act like the host you supposed to be.'

Kurt stalked away, leaving Blaine fuming. It took a few moments for Blaine to compose himself before he stepped out into the main party room. There were people everywhere. Blaine grabbed himself a glass of champagne, heading out to start mingling amongst his guests. He spotted Santana and Brittany from high school standing over in a far corner talking to one of Kurt's work colleagues and was about to go and greet them when he felt a soft hand pull him away from the party. Blaine turned to see Rachel leading him upstairs. 'Rachel? What's going on?'

'I need to talk to you. In private. It's important.'

* * *

Kurt couldn't think straight. Not that Kurt had ever really thought straight, especially since he began all_ this_. But now, his mind was completely over whelmed with _those_ thoughts.  
The music, the chatter, all seemed far away. Everything seemed to be moving in slow motion. He stood amongst the crowded room, feeling absolutely alone. It had begun.

**What had begun exactly?  
Let's just say that those midnight snacks really won't be worth it for some of our party guests later on that night.**

* * *

'Rachel what is this all about?' Blaine asked, frustrated when the brunette finally shoved him inside one of the guest bedrooms. He folded his arms as he watched her nervously pace back and forth.

'Blaine, I know I've been distant. I want you to know I missed you every day. You and Kurt and everyone from school. I just… I couldn't do that anymore.'

'Rachel, you completely disappeared from my life, from all our lives. If it weren't for your rise to stardom we would have thought you had died or something…'

'I know. But, you know all the stuff that happened while we were in New York… I couldn't do it anymore. I needed to go.'

'No you didn't.'

Rachel stared at him, wide eyed. 'E-excuse me?'

'You would never run from New York unless the unthinkable had happened.'

To Blaine's surprise, Rachel laughed. 'You are so good at reading people Blaine! I really have no idea why you didn't actually become a therapist. I could have hired you to deal with some of my less flattering breakdowns…'

'Stop screwing around Rachel. What is it you have to talk to me about?' She swallowed.

'Remember how… How in junior year we started… We had that little thing going on?'

Blaine was quiet.

'Rachel…'

'Remember? I was lonely. You were too. Kurt… Kurt was always gone. Working or studying or out with some of his stranger friends… You do remember don't you?'

'Yes, even though I tried my best to put it behind me. We did everything we could so that Kurt never found out, and now you just come here, after _years,_ and decide to remind me of it?'

'Blaine, I know, I'm sorry it is really a terrible time, but I couldn't lie anymore.'

'Rachel, who are we lying to now? It happened 7 years ago, okay? It's the past. I'm no longer having my little identity crisis. I'm not experimenting anymore. We're both grown up, and I for one have moved on.'

'Blaine, there's a reason I ran away.'

Blaine was angry now. Despite always being the shortest boy in his class, Blaine still towered over Rachel's tiny physique. 'Oh do enlightened me Rachel, go ahead, tell me why you left me! Yeah, that's right; I did consider it as if you'd left me. I loved you Rachel. Despite everything.'

Rachel's eyes were wet, and Blaine was trying to keep his frustrated tears at bay.

'I loved you too. That's why I had to leave.'

'Bull shit.'

'Blaine, listen to me. We slept together. We were lovers. Our affair… it left me with more than a broken heart. I was… Blaine. I think it's time for you to meet someone.'

'Jesus Christ Rachel, just spit the damn thing out already,' But Rachel had already disappeared around the corner into the guest bathroom. A minute later she returned hand in hand with a tiny girl, no older than 6 or 7. She wore a pretty navy blue party dress, and her curly brown hair just fell past her shoulders. Her skin was slightly tanned and she had a sweet little button nose. Blaine stared at her, confused as to why Rachel was introducing her to this little girl.

'Blaine, meet Charlie. Meet your daughter.'

Blaine's hazel eyes were huge as he stared in disbelief into the little girl's big hazel eyes, identical to his own.

**Blaine Anderson had never thought of himself as a cheater.**

**He really did love Kurt, more than it was healthy sometimes, and he never wanted to be forced to cheat on the one, love of his life.**

**But when times are hard, so are some people.**

**And Rachel Berry just happened to be there, in that apartment, all those years ago.**

**She was nothing more than a habit that he happened to really love.**

**We all know how hard habits are to quit.**

The little girl that Rachel had just introduced as Charlie looked up at him with a worried expression. She was far too young to be worrying.

'… What… Rachel?' Blaine was at a loss for words. This was the reason she had dropped out of school, why she fled across the country. Blaine was stupid enough to have gotten her pregnant. And Rachel. Little Rachel who was always so careful and caring and was a vegan and never tried to hurt anyone on purpose. Of course. Everything made sense in Blaine's head now, except for one thing.

'I've never… never read anywhere that you had a daughter Rachel.'

'I work pretty hard to keep my private life out of the public eye.'

Blaine nodded, his eyes never leaving his… daughter. He still couldn't comprehend it. He'd always thought one, day, maybe. And here he'd been a father and he'd never even realised.

'Charlie, was it?' Blaine kneelt down so that he was at the little girl's level. It was uncanny how alike the two were. She seemed to retreat, hiding behind her mother, but only slightly.

'Charlie, this is Blaine. Your father. I told you we were going to meet someone special today, right?'

'Hi Charlie, I'm Blaine.' Blaine smiled tears rolling down his face silently.

'… Hello Blaine, I'm Charlie Elizabeth Berry.' She held out a tiny open palm to shake Blaine's hand. Blaine took it and shook it gently. His hand was just so big compared to hers.

'Pleased to meet you Charlie Elizabeth Berry,' Charlie giggled.

'I like him Mommy.'

'I do too.' Rachel's face was wet as she choked back a sob, watching Blaine and Charlie interact was just getting too much. Rachel bent down to scoop Charlie into her arms. Blaine stood back up to his full height. 'Well, we better be going. Tell Kurt, congratulations, again. I promised to take Charlie to Breadstix while we're in Lima and we fly out tomorrow morning.'

'Please, don't go.' Blaine reached for Rachel's arm.

'I'm sorry Blaine, it's getting late. Charlie's only little, she needs a plate full on pasta and then a good night's sleep before a big plane trip tomorrow.'

'At least give me your cell number. So I can call and talk to Charlie. And you.'

Rachel stopped. She sat Charlie down on the bed for a moment before reaching into the patterned bag on her arm to retrieve a pen and paper. She scribbled down a number and handed it to Blaine.

'There, call that whenever. I'll answer, no matter what.'

'Thankyou.' Blaine said as Rachel took Charlie's hand and led her out of the room. Blaine waved at Charlie, who grinned widely, her few missing teeth clearly visible. The moment the door closed, Blaine let out a cry. How could he be so stupid? How had Rachel kept this from him? How could he have missed so much?

* * *

The party was slowly dying off. Kurt was faking smiles and conversation at this point, waiting for the last of the guests to leave so that he could begin his plan. And where had Blaine gotten to again? Kurt was becoming impatient.

There was a banging of doors from upstairs. Kurt turned to see Rachel and a dark haired girl walking down the stairs, heading for the back entrance. A few moments later, Blaine appeared, coming from the same direction Rachel and the girl had come from. What was going on?

'Blaine,' Kurt called up the stairs, causing his fiancée to jump. Blaine's eyes were slightly puffy and red, as if he had been crying. 'Nice of you to finally arrive at your own party. I think you've taken fashionably late to a new level.'

'Sorry, I uhh, sorry.'

'Whatever. Almost everyone has left, so it doesn't even matter.'

'I'm so sorry baby-'

'Drop it okay, it's fine.' Kurt began to collect empty champagne glasses that littered the living room, carrying them back over to the kitchen to start the clean up. Blaine followed his lead. 'Hey, so who was the kid that was with Rachel anyway?'

Blaine dropped the pile of glasses in his arms. Luckily they fell onto the couch, nothing breaking, nothing spilling. 'Sorry?'

'I saw her come down stairs just before you with this little girl. Looked like a mini Rachel from a distance.'

'R-really? I didn't see them then. That's so weird…'

'Huh.'

Silence fell between them as they continued to clean the rest of the party space. The last of the guests had finally gone home.

'I'm gonna head to bed now babe. Are you staying up much longer?' Blaine asked as Kurt swallowed the last of the wine in his glass.

'Yeah, just a little longer. I'm in the mood for baking. I think I'll make a batch of cookies then head up too.'

'Ooh, what kind?'

'I'm thinking peanut butter and choc chip?'

'Sounds delicious. Save me some for tomorrow.' Blaine said, from half way up the stairs.

'Sure thing,' Kurt turned away, searching the cupboards for the ingredients he needed.

'I love you.' Blaine told the air as Kurt ignored him. He sighed and walked the rest of the up the stairs and into the bedroom. He lay back onto his bed thinking for a minute, before reaching for his cell phone and the piece of paper he'd been given earlier.

'Rachel? Hi, it's Blaine. I know it's late, but I just wanted to talk.'

**At this point in time, Kurt was not aware of the secret that his beloved Blaine and Blaine's beloved Rachel was hiding.**

**Kurt's mind was focused on what he thought was the real threat in his beloved relationship.**

**The sweet smell of baking that wafted through the house that night was not as sweet as it seemed.**

**A special recipe for Sammie Evans was also a Kurt Hummel specialty. **

**And everyone can remember what Kurt Hummel was best at, yes?**

**And now on a lighter note;**

**Isn't it ironic for a gay man to be allergic to nuts?**

* * *

**A.N: Yeah, so that's kind of a bombshell... I'm a guilty Blainchel shipper. don't h8 mii coz u aint mii x0x0**

**But I will reveal why Blaine seems like such a dick in coming chapters. NEXT CHAPTER BEGINS WITH ANOTHER MURDER AND IS ALREADY HALF WRITTEN BECAUSE I WENT AWAY TO THE BEACH THIS WEEKEND AND BROUGHT MY LAPTOP AND IT RAINED SO I SAT INSIDE AND TYPED. **

**k**


	6. Chapter Five: The First

**AN: It's the summer, and I've now made it my goal to finish this story before I start college in February. So expect much faster updates. I want to finish this up before I start a paranormal!Faberry fic I really want to get down, but multiple stories going at once is confusing and I've been writing this for long enough, I need to get it done! Thank you for actually sticking with it, if you have that is. You guys are cool. **

* * *

'_No, Sam, stop, you're such an idiot! I'm right about this so just trust me for once, okay?' A tall man yelled in Sam Evans face. They stood by the road side of a forest. It was slowly growing darker around them.  
'Jeremiah, don't you dare take this out on me! I'm not as dumb as I look okay, I know that if we go that way something bad is gonna happen.' Jeremiah rolled his eyes in response.  
'Fine, y'know, be like that. I'm going this way, and you can't stop me.' Jeremiah marched off into the trees.  
'No, Jem, come back, please!' But Jeremiah was already out of ear shot. Sam ran after him, into the scrub. Jeremiah's blonde hair was just visible through the trees. 'Jeremiah!'  
Sam continued on. The crunch of the leaves beneath his shoes began to fade and was replaced with a different sort of crunch. Sam looked down, and stumbled back with a small cry of shock. The forest floor was littered with animal bones, the smaller skeletons cracking under his feet. Sam heard Jeremiah's footsteps in the distance. Sam ran towards him.  
Jeremiah had stopped. Sam had to come to a sharp stop to avoid getting too close to the other man. 'Jeremiah?'  
Jeremiah slowly turned around. The man's face was now ghostly white and his eyes were the size of saucers. He clutched his stomach, as if he was hiding something under his shirt and was trying to keep it in place inconspicuously. 'Jem, what's the matter?' Sam questioned frantically. Jeremiah let his hands drop. After a second, the pale, thin material that covered his stomach was soaked in blood. Sam rushed forward to help his boyfriend. 'Jeremiah! Oh my god, what happened? Oh my god.' Sam had shifted the bloodied shirt to expose Jeremiah's stomach. Or lack there of.  
Jeremiah's stomach had been torn open, his guts literally spilling everywhere. Small intestines fell into Sam's hands, blood pouring out in red masses. 'Oh god Jem, oh my god hold on, please,' Sam cried. 'Help! HELP!' Sam screamed into nothingness.  
The ground suddenly began to shake, and seemed to fall away. Jeremiah's body slid from Sam's grasp, and desperately Sam reached down to grab him, to grab anything. Nothing.  
Sam stared down as he watched Jeremiah's body fall and flop like a puppet cut away from its strings. His body seemed to make impact with every single stone on its way down. There was no ground in Sam's vision, just empty black.  
There was laughter somewhere behind Sam.  
He turned to see a tall man in a porcelain mask. His laughter was dark and dripped with cruelty. 'Your turn.' He said simply before slicing a large pointed knife across Sam's stomach. Sam could feel his insides falling out as the man in the porcelain mask pushed him over the edge to fall into the nothingness…_

Sam jumped awake. It was how he had been waking every night. The nightmare was always the same. He'd been having it ever since Jeremiah had first gone missing, over 4 months ago. Always the falling, the blood. It scared him senseless. Sam glanced at the little red numbers on his alarm clock. It read 12:15am. Sam never seemed to fall back asleep after one of his nightmares. There was no point trying.  
Sliding out of bed, Sam flicked the bedroom light on and began to make his way downstairs. Every room he passed through, he flicked the light switch upward, illuminating the darkness of his own house. He'd never been afraid of the dark exactly… It was always what might be hiding in there that frightened him. Sam didn't glance over the rooms once the lights were on, so the intruder was not noticed in the early stages of his menacing plan. Clad in stylish black, he ghosted Sam silently on his descent to the kitchen.  
From that moment on, Sam Evans never stood a chance.

**Sam liked his snacks.  
I guess it's what killed him.**

The lights jolted awake, making the metallic kitchen now safe in Sam's mind. Because nothing would dare attack him in the light. Everything seemed in the boundaries of ordinary. Sam wasn't a slob, but then again, he didn't feel the need to make his home completely spotless all of the time. There were dishes in the sink, a wad of bills on the counter next to a plate of cookies that he didn't remember leaving out. _Whatever_, Sam thought, reaching over to grab one, scoffing it down partially whole. He turned to run the water, deciding to clean up his mess since he was awake anyway.  
Steam rose from the hot water, and Sam, reached behind him for another cookie. _Woah, these are good! _ Sam's hand wandered to his throat, rubbing it soothingly, scratching it slightly. Why was his throat suddenly becoming so tight?  
'I wonder what will kill you faster. If you choke on my biscuits or if I just drown you instead?'  
Sam jumped, startled, turning quickly to see who had said that.  
'Kurt, what… What are you doing here?' Sam asked staring straight at his friend. Kurt stood stiff and strong. His clothes were elegant and dark, contrasting with his skin and giving him the appearance that he was much paler than he actually was. He was like a ghost.  
'Just thought I'd drop by. Give you some fresh, home-made baking. I know how much you enjoy sweets.'  
Kurt's tone was lower than usual. Sam was accustomed to the soprano the man usually spoke with, but this, only was slightly darker, and was extremely unsettling.  
'Why are you in my house?' Sam asked. His voice was barely audible. His throat felt hot, and as if it had begun to swell. _No. He couldn't have. Could he?  
_'A little unfinished business, my dear Sam. Really, this will be your first and only warning on the matter, but I've spoken to Blaine about it several times now.' He chuckled lightly to himself. 'You should have another cookie. We wouldn't want them to go to waste.'  
'No.' Sam stood his ground, doing the best he could to keep the fear leaking into his voice.  
'Sit down.' Kurt rushed forward; it was so swiftly that San didn't have the chance to move out of his way. Kurt grabbed him, forcing him into a kitchen stool. Kurt's eyes were glowing with anticipation mixed with rage, as he reached behind, and then shoving the retrieved cookie down Sam's throat. Sam gasped for air. Kurt had Sam's legs pinned down with his own knees, his hands upon his head and under his jaw, forcing him to chew. 'Eat up Sammie! Peanuts are good for you!'  
If Sam was afraid before, he was beside himself with fear now.

**If you hadn't guessed by now, Sam had a nut allergy.  
A very serious, very dangerous, completely life threatening allergy.  
He hadn't had a reaction since he was in high school, since that day in Glee club when Mercedes Jones had been eating a PB+J and Sam had simply gotten a whiff of it.  
He'd had to be rushed to hospital, to be injected with adrenaline.  
Of course Kurt had remembered.**

Sam's instincts took over, he threw Kurt off him, and sprinted to the bathroom. He didn't hear Kurt follow, and he didn't care. He was searching, desperately, for the little thing that would save his life.  
'Looking for this?' Kurt's voice came from behind him. Sam turned to see him lazily playing with his life line. His Epi-pen was in Kurt's grasp.  
'Hand it over,' Sam choked out, eyes desperate. Kurt shook his head, and flounced out of his sight. Sam ran after him. Every breath Sam took ragged in his throat. If he didn't get it back soon…  
'Sit down, and we'll have a little chat. Then maybe I'll hand it back.' Sam obeyed, willing to do everything he could to save his life. And right now, that was listening to Kurt's crazed rants.  
'You are never allowed to see Blaine again. Understand? He is _mine_, and _mine _alone. I will not share him. I never have, never will. I don't care that your boyfriend went and got himself killed and you're dealing with "a great deal of stress and pain" blah blah blah. Toughen up. Don't go crawling and crying to _my _fiancée. I won't put up with home wreckers.' Sam sat in silence, tears flowing freely down his cheeks. Kurt smirked down at him. 'You're in pain now aren't you Sammie? Where's Blaine now? He's not here because he doesn't care about you. No one does now.' Kurt shifted away. 'And no one ever will again.'  
Kurt's eyes danced around the room, searching for something he could work to his advantage. 'I wonder what would happen if I put this in here?' Kurt wondered aloud as he skipped to stand in front of the microwave. 'I mean, would it explode do you think? Let's find out!' Sam watched in shock as his only chance of survival began to rotate, fizzle and pop. It would be ruined by now, even if it didn't explode.  
Kurt came towards Sam again. 'You're dead now Sammie.' Manic laughter filled the room as Sam tried to take another breath. The air could no longer reach his lungs. His throat was on fire, his vision became blurred and he could only hear the sound of Kurt's crazed laughter ringing in his ears.  
Flecks of pink danced in the air around him like fairy lights, settling on his shoulders and in his hair.  
'Goodnight Sam. I wish you only the sweetest of dreams.'

* * *

Blaine Anderson was sleeping lightly, when he heard footsteps and felt a body come to lie beside him. He turned to see Kurt snuggling into his side, eyes shut tight and a noticeable smile on his lips.

'Goodnight baby, I love you.' Blaine said leaning down to kiss the top of his head.  
'Love you too.'  
Blaine rolled back over and glanced over the glowing numbers of his alarm clock. 1:26am. Yawning, he closed his eyes, trying to get back to sleep.

* * *

His morning run was a ritual that had began in college, as a way to escape the craziness of his shared apartment in New York City. Even at 6am, Blaine's living situation could be hectic, especially while living with two self proclaimed divas fighting over one tiny bathroom. So Blaine literally ran, he ran through the boroughs, he ran through Central Park, he ran for as long and as far as his short legs could take him. Crisp morning air cleared his head, getting him in the right frame of mind to face each day as it came. College was hard. Not only was it his work load, double majoring in Psychology and Criminology did that to you, but also dealing with Kurt, his possesiveness, his absensces. He played Blaine like a game of cards, never knowing which hand he was going to be given next. Kurt put him through a lot of stress to begin with, and then when Kurt began to spend every evening out... With his _friends_... It all had become too much for Blaine. Running wasn't enough anymore. He began to doubt himself. How much he loved Kurt. His entire being. As a teenager, Blaine had always struggled with himself, his idenity, sexuality. Various anti-depressants and anti-anxiety medication later, he thought he was on top of it all. But Blaine never was. Kurt only made him _believe_ it. Blaine spilled his soul to the boy, his lover and best friend, and Kurt only seemed to take advantage of that. By Junior year, all signs of Kurt and Blaine's relationship pointed to 'Domestically Violent' on Kurt's behalf. Blaine was too in love to leave Kurt. Too afraid, too stupid. That's what began the whole mess with Rachel. It was a Friday night, neither of the two roommates had plans, Kurt was out, Blaine had no idea where, and he and Rachel had ordered takeout and were watching _Funny Girl_ huddled together on the small sofa. It just happened. They laughed and it had happened. Blaine remembered how she tasted like tofu and noddles, and how they'd simply fucked on that couch as Fanny Brice belted out the final numbers of the film. Blaine wasn't used to women, and he enjoyed the change. It soon became a habit, whenever Kurt was away, Blaine and Rachel would fuck around like rabbits trying to populate an entire new country by themselves. At first they were careful, they were new to each other, to their bodies, the game of lying and adultery, but then soon they were experts, sex was their ultimate stress relief. Blaine was even falling in love with the tiny brunette that he would so often see panting, shaking and sweaty underneath him, moaning his name in pleasure and begging him to touch her again. Sex with Kurt was different than sex with Rachel. Sex with Kurt used to be about love, and passion and being one with a person, it had slowly just become about dominance and ownership. Sex with Rachel had begun as just a random impulse, but soon became the only thing keeping him together. When he and Rachel began their littler afair of sorts, right under Kurt's unsuspecting nose, Blaine had stopped running. But when Rachel had fled all those years ago, Blaine started running again only in the physical sense, because that's when he'd learned Kurt's secret. That's when he'd succumbed.  
But that was seven years ago, and Blaine was older, more together. He knew what he wanted. He wanted Kurt. He wanted to spend the rest of his life with man that had helped him learn so much about himself over the years. He wanted everything for this man. He was willing to give up anything for him.  
This is what Blaine thought only a week ago.  
It was the Sunday morning after Kurt and Blaine's 10th aniverssary, and Blaine was out running, he'd woken earlier than he had in years, and he had run harder and longer than he ever had before. Blaine needed to clear his head. _So much_ had been dropped on his shoulders in the last day alone, he didn't know where to begin. He'd suggested Sam invite Rachel to Jeremiah's funeral, only as a possible distraction for Kurt. Kurt needed something to entertain him, and Rachel's exciting A-List life could have been that very thing. Blaine didn't even expect her to show. He should have never opened his fat mouth. _A kid Blaine? Your fucking illegitamate child? Really? You're such a fucking idiot._ He should have never suggested she come.  
No, she would have turned up eventually. Charlie was getting to the age when the questions begin. And Jesus, she looked just like him. The eyes, the curls. If Kurt ever saw her up close he would figure it out _straight away._  
Blaine was running hard, he was practically sprinting, the pavement pounding beneath his feet as he pushed onward, breath uneven and sweat dripping off him in bullets. He turned left into the Church Street playground, finally coming to stop. Blaine stood panting, trying his best to get his breathing under control. Blaine fell to his knees, his head in his hands, sobbing uncontrollabley. He'd fucked up so badly. If Kurt ever, ever found out... He'd kill them. He'd kill them all. Rachel, Charlie, probably even Blaine himself. And even if Kurt never did find out, he'd left Rachel, scared and running and _pregnant_ with _his child_ out in the cold with nowhere to go. How she ever managed was beyond him. He remembered stories of Quinn Fabray in high school, before he knew her, the lonely, lost little girl with no one to turn to or rely on. Thrown out of home because of a complete idiot who knocked her up. "Fuck!" Blaine screamed, head between his knees, hands ripped at his own hair. "How could I have been so _stupid!" _He swung his arms out, thumping them down into the moist pinebark lining his corner of the playground. He heard the spooked flutter of birds fly away and looked up through watery eyes at the morning around him. Across the street he saw police cars, four of them infact, with two officers, placing yellow tape about the premisis of the house. Blaine recognised the house. It was where Same Evans lived.  
Blaine pulled himself up off the ground, wiping his face with his hands, before he slowly jogged over to see what the comotion was about. The fence surounding the park had been blocking his view of the ambulance outside Sam's house. A group of neighbours dressed in pyjamas and gowns, huddled in a group behind the tape, quietly discussing what was going on amongst themselves. As Blaine got closer, he saw Sergeant Finn Hudson, as he liked to be known when in uniform, appear from the house, followed by two paramedics pushing a body bag on a stretcher. Finn's face was blank as he emerged, the sight of the black bag causing a gasp amongst neighbours. Blaine's eyes went wide. He walked over to where Finn was now standing, directing lower ranking police in what to do next.  
"Finn, oh my god, what happened?" Blaine asked the taller man, believing he had a special liberty seeing as that he was marrying the sergeant's step brother in the coming weeks.  
Finn turned to Blaine and sighed sadly. "Neighbours reported some strange noises coming from the house last night, but thought nothing of it, then Mrs Hayner from number 24 was supposed to come do some baking with Sam before church this morning, and she found him. Dead as a doornail." Finn ducked under the tape, preparing to head back inside.  
"Oh god... That's why all the cops are here then? They think it's a murder scene?"  
"Blaine... Paramedics aren't 100% sure yet, but they're pretty sure he died of an allergic reaction. He suffocated."  
"But that could be purely accidental-"  
Finn stopped, looking straight into the younger man's eyes. "Look, I knew Sam, you knew Sam. We both knew how pedantic he was about his allergy. This was no accident." Blaine swallowed as Finn looked around to make sure no one was looking before he beckoned Blaine to follow him to behind one of the cop cars. "We also found something in Sam's throat. It was stuffed full of some kind of peanut cookie, along with about half a gallon of this," he pulled a plastic evidence bag out from his uniform pocket and showed it to Blaine, his eyes growing wide. Inside was a handful of sparkling pink glitter, catching the morning light. There was bits of blood and salvia mixed up inside the bag but there was no mistaking the shimmer as glitter.  
"Glitter?" Blaine asked surprised, Finn nodding. "But why? What is even the point of that?"  
"I haven't got a clue Blaine, but I'm going to find out. For Sam." His eyes were hard. "Now, do us a favour and don't tell anyone I told you about this, except Kurt of course. Just go take a seat or head back home and I'll call you guys later."  
Blaine nodded a silent goodbye, as he set off running again in the direction of home.

* * *

Kurt woke late that morning. He even lazed in bed far longer than it was necessary. He was in a state of hazy bliss, determined to enjoy it while it lasted. He didn't know when he'd have the chance again. He didn't even care that Blaine was up and gone, probably hours before he'd awoke, off for his run like he did every morning. Eventually, Kurt rose, headed downstairs to make some coffee, collected his paper and sat at the kitchen counter, rejoicing in his glow. Nothing felt better than this. Not even sex or performing. _This _is what he really lived for.  
And he couldn't even understand how Blaine had managed to keep him from it so long.  
Kurt had only just begun to read the headlines when Blaine came panting through the front door, worn out from his run. "Hey baby," Kurt cooed as his fianceé walked into the kitchen, covered in cold sweat and looking completely beat. "'Mornin' love," Blaine answered coming in to kiss him sweetly and quickly on the lips. "Better not get too close, I stink."  
Kurt giggled, rubbing Blaine's arm gentley. "I'd still love you even if you smelt like the dump."  
"Well if I don't shower soon, I'll probably smell worse."  
"Sit down and eat first, you need some carbs, and you know it must be true if I'm saying it." Kurt got up as soon as Blaine sat down, moving to fetch the toaster and a loaf of grain bread. "Honey for my honey?"  
"Look at you, being all lovey dovey today," Blaine smiled up at Kurt as he flitted around the kitchen making Blaine's breakfast. "And yes please."  
"I don't know, I think I'm just in a really great mood. I'm feeling the pre-wedding vibe." He giggled again. Blaine's eyes flickered, a little confronted. Kurt barely ever giggled.  
"Really now? I just thought you really wanted to make me breakfast..." Blaine leaned on his elbows, reaching over the counter to be closer to where Kurt stood, slotting thick slices of bread into the toaster.  
"Look, Blaine, I really should apologise for my behaviour yesterday. The party... It was kind of a disaster. And it was our 10th aniversary, _and _our engagment and we didn't even get to have any sweet 'happy aniversary' sex. Or any hot anger sex after things got a little heated yesterday. But this isn't about sex- it's about us. I was a real jerk yesterday, and I'm sorry. I don't want there to be anything, anything at all that is going to come between us now. Not ever." Kurt gripped Blaine's hands from across the counter, staring deep into his eyes, with the most sincere apology face, Kurt Hummel ever did wear. Blaine let out a sigh of relief, playing sheepishly on his bottom lip with his teeth.  
"I'm sorry too Kurt. I love you, and I wasn't being a good host. Or a good boyrfriend. I don't blame you for getting upset. I really don't want anything to upset you like that again. I love you too much." Blaine pulled his fianceé in close for a long, sweet, apologetic kiss.  
"I love you too," Kurt said between kisses, before they were rudely interuppted by the toasting popping up loudly. Kurt spread the bread and slid it over to Blaine who bit into it happily.  
"Thankyou!" He grinned like a 4 year old with fairy bread, and bit into his breakfast again. Kurt returned to his coffee and paper after clearing away, hoping for anything mildly interesting to grace the articles. "So I was out for my run today," Blaine began, chewing slowly. Kurt's ears pricked up, listening to Blaine's story. "And I was jogging along Church Street when I saw a bunch of police cars outside Sam Evans' place. Turns out he _died_ last night. He had a run in with a deadly snackfood or something, from what Finn told me. Gosh, it's so... I don't even know. It's just crazy." Blaine moved to place his plate in the sink, Kurt's eyes following him.  
"Yeah, that does sound odd. Poor thing." Kurt's false remorse was present in his words, and Blaine picked up on it, but never let that show for a second.  
"Anyway, because we didn't get to have any hot, romantic sex last night..." Blaine said, leaning into Kurt's ear, and rubbing his hands over his shoulders, "why don't we go have some equally as hot, probably less romantic but pretty damn steamy shower sex?" Blaine pulled away, walking briskly towards the stairs. He turned back toward Kurt, lifting his shirt over his head in a swift movement before dropping it and heading up the stairs. A devilish grin lit up Kurt's eyes as he leapt from his seat to follow Blaine to the bathroom.  
"Don't you start the fun without me!"

**But of course, Kurt had already had his fix of fun that would last only a while.**  
**This was just an added bonus.**

* * *

**AN: Its funny because I actually hardcore ship Blainchel, and I probably should have put some kind of warning because I know lots of people can't stand it. Opps.  
But I'm thinking next chapter is going to be a flash back chapter? To where Kurt's whole twisted psyche all began.. **


	7. Chapter Six: The Very, Very First

**AN: Two updates in one day? this is new. I wrote this chapter this afternoon because my internet was down and it was raining. I'm only productive when the weather is bad.**

**So this is kind of a flash back chapter. Looking at how Kurt became so twisted. **

* * *

**Kurt Hummel wasn't always the vicious predator that he may seem.  
No, Kurt Hummel was once a good boy. He was smart, he was ambitious. He knew what he wanted, but he didn't know how to get it. Of course he felt the insecruities that all teenagers face. He was bullied, because he liked to sing, because he liked fashion, because he liked boys. Kurt Hummel was openly gay and that just made it open season for any close minded neanderthal that wished to make the poor kid's life hell.  
That was until Kurt met Blaine.**

* * *

"Hey, fairy!" someone was calling for him, but Kurt chose to ignore it. Letting out his breath, he focussed on getting his books for his next class, when he felt himself being slammed head first into his locker, and hard. "Watch out Homo Hummel!" The voice taunted as it walked away, flanked my laughter from it's minions. Kurt's head throbbed, he'd hit it on the top shelf of his locker, when he'd been shoved into it. He emerged slowly, rubbing at the sore spot and hoping his hair hadn't been flattened in the attack. Looking around, he saw that no one was paying attention to him. He'd just been _assulted_ in the middle of the hallway and nobody seemed to have noticed. No body cared about 'Homo Hummel'. It seemed not even his 'friends' in Glee. No matter. Kurt was better than this. He wanted to be strong for himself, for his father. His dad was still recovering from his heart attack a few weeks ago and he didn't need to know about some stupid bullies who liked shoving Kurt into things. Looking down at the time on his phone, he put his books away. It was time for glee club anyway, he didn't need anything now. He strode away, a bounce in his step, coming into the choir room to see the room divided in boys and girls.  
"Kurt, over to the boys side please, we're getting ready for our annual glee off!" Mr Schuester proclaimed as Kurt marched into the room. Rolling his eyes he went to side with the boys, looking longingly over to the girls side. The boys would never take any of his ideas on board. It was pointless. He sat fiddling with his phone, facebook and youtube and checking his emails. The voices in glee club were far away when finally he heard Mr Schue speak.  
"...And this time, girl's have to sing songs originally sung by men, and boys', you have to do traditional girl songs!" The room erupted in murmurs and Puck stood up to object, Artie pulling him back down into his seat. Kurt's face lit up. He was in his element.  
"Not to mention, I got our sectionals compettition list in the mail today. Looks like we are facing the Hipsters and The Dalton Academy Warblers. We've totally got this guys!"  
"Get a woman, get a woman, get a woman if you can, if you can't get a woman, get a Dalton man!" Finn, Santana and Puck all chanted, laughing. The school had a reputation with the surrounding high schools as being one huge gay fest. Kurt shot them all an annoyed look. He didn't want to hear gay jokes from the people who were supposed to be his friends.  
"Spilt up into your groups, and get some creative juices flowing!" Mr Schue commanded as the kids moved to find empty classrooms to start their ideas for song choices.

* * *

_"Listen Puck, I know what I'm talking about-"  
"We don't want to dress in feathers and bows and sequins. We want to sit here and spend the time talking about boobs and stuff. Why don't you go flounce off to visit the Garglers or whatever and see what their doing for sectionals. Make yourself useful."  
"Fine."  
_The conversation he'd had with Puck was fresh in his mind, anger bottled up in his chest. "Stupid Puck. Stupid Finn. Stupid boys. Who needs them?" Kurt told himself as he drove towards Westerville, Ohio. Still he'd wanted to help them, so he took Puck's advice and was planning on spying on these Warblers. "Stupid Kurt." He said again, thumping on the wheel. What was getting angry going to acheive anyway?  
_Whatever you want it to. As long as you do it properly._  
Somewhere in his head he head the voice. The voice that scared him more than any bully ever had. It used to be very rare that he'd hear the voice. Only when he was feeling so alone or upset or a combination of the both. It first appeared after his mother's death. Kurt's father had taken him to see a child psycologist to help deal with the loss of his mom, and that had silenced it for a while. But recently it had come back.  
And it began to be heard more often than Kurt felt comfortble with.  
Glancing up into the rear view mirror to check the road behind him he saw something that shocked him. Himself, sitting in the back seat, crystal eyes cold and narrow, a sly smirk on his lips, and he was staring back at Kurt in the mirror. Kurt let out a yelp of shock, swerving the car dangerously in surprise. To his luck he managed to pull over without crashing into the trees lining the highway. Kurt whipped around to look in the back seat, but there was nothing there. Kurt's eyes were wide with fright, breathing heavily he gripped the wheel tightly, his knuckles becoming white.  
"Oh my god..." Kurt breathed. His mind was playing tricks on him surely. He did not just see that for real... He must be over tired.  
_You're not, I just wanted to say hi. That was a little rude, Kurt.  
_Kurt's eyes were filled with frightened tears when he heard the voice inside his head again, he quickly, pulling back onto the highway and speeding off toward Westerville. "Stay away from me!" He shouted inside the car, not knowing what good it would do.  
_That's impossible Kurt. How could I stay away from myself?_

* * *

Dalton Academy was huge. It was beautiful. Murials painted over the hallways and staircases that twisted for what seem liked years. The students were poised and polite, Kurt already had to ask directions to a particular handsome young boy on the stairway leading down into another long hall. It was easy to get lost around here it seemed. The boy introduced himself as Blaine. _I like him._ The voice spoke immediately. Kurt winced, because he agreed with it.  
Blaine ended up being one of the Warblers, and not just any Warbler, but the lead soloist. Kurt smiled as the dark haired boy invited him for coffee. Talking to Blaine was easy, it was natural, and soon Kurt was in tears, sharing his bullying experience with the boy he barely knew. Blaine understood, he related. Blaine was out and proud at his last school, but bullying, the same kind of torment Kurt saw everyday, forced him out.  
"I ran Kurt, and it's something I really, really, regret."  
"But what can I do?" Kurt asked, not knowing where to turn. He wanted to be strong. More than anything.  
_You can get even._ Kurt flinched at the voice's answer to his own question.  
"You can refuse to be the victim. Call him out to to. Let your voice be heard."  
_That could work too. If you let _my _voice be heard.  
_Kurt stood quickly, thanking Blaine for his time, before turning to leave.  
"Wait, Kurt, can I atleast get your number? So we can talk if you need?" Blaine asked, following Kurt out. Kurt nodded, and they exchanged contact details.  
Kurt was now back in his car, preparing to reverse out of the lot and drive back to Lima. Reluctantly, Kurt glanced up at his mirror, relief waashing over him when he saw that he was alone in his car.  
_You're not alone, Kurt. You're never alone._  
Kurt shived, leaving the parking lot carefully, flooring it as soon as he hit the familiar black stretch of highway.

* * *

He was sitting in Glee club, watching the girls perform their number with a smile on his face, when he felt his phone buzz. He looked at the message he'd recieved from Blaine. _'Courage.'  
_When Glee ended that afternoon, the halls of McKinley were practically empty. A few students were finishing up with their clubs or dententions, closing their lockers and leaving the school. Kurt walked down the hall, a smile on his face as he read over the message from Blaine again. The message gave Kurt hope. His face fell the moment he felt hands throw him into the row of lockers. Kurt picked himself up off the ground as he saw Dave Karofsky's face sneer down at him, before he turned the corner, heading for the locker room.  
_Take pretty boy's advice Kurt. Refuse to be the victim._  
Kurt listened to the voice inside his head, a mistake that he didn't care to make. He ran after Karofsky, yelling to get his attention, adreneline beginning to pump through his veins.  
"Hey!" Kurt shouted at the burley jock, who was packing his football gear into his bag at his locker.  
"Girl's locker room is next door-" Karofsky began to taunt but Kurt's hands were shoving him back against his own line of lockers. "What the hell are you doing?"  
"I refuse to be beat around any longer David Karofsky. This is going to stop, you hear me? No more threats. No more beatings. No more dumpster dives or slushie facials. Not for me, not for anyone." Kurt's voice was strong and unforgiving.  
"Or what? You and you're little butt buddies gonna come sing at me? Ooh, I'm really friggen scared." Dave laugehd right back in Kurt's face, despite Kurt having pinned the bigger boy down.  
Kurt hesitated. How was he going to make Karofsky stop? He was just a skinny junior, he didn't even know how he'd been able to confront his bully so far. _I'm here for a reason you know. _The voice startled Kurt, causing him to loosen his grip on Karofsky. Karofsky, threw Kurt off him, the smaller boy hurtling into lockers on the opposite side of the room. He leaned over were Kurt lay in a heap on the floor.  
"Don't touch me again, faggot." Kurt's eyes darkened.  
_Courage, Kurt.  
_Kurt felt something warm pulse through him, and in a second he was suddenly standing again, poised and elegant, as if nothing had happened only a moment ago. Karofsky stared, slightly confused at Kurt's retaliation.  
"You shouldn't use words like that." Kurt's voice was different. Spiced with malice and darker than he'd ever spoken before.  
"You gonna stop me fairy?" Karofsky let slip, before Kurt had him around the neck. One hand was wrapped around Dave's throat, slamming him into the door's edge of the opened locker, while constricting his windpipe. The bully let out a squeak and a splutter, his eyes scared at Kurt's sudden burst of strength. Kurt only smiled. He threw him down onto the bench, Kurt moving to straddle his chest and tighten the grip on Karofsky's throat.  
"How was I going to stop you again?" Kurt asked, face coming close to Dave's, too close for comfort. "Like this of course." With that, Kurt slammed Dave's head back onto the wooden bench, hard and fast, _crack, crack, crack._ Kurt couldn't tell if it was Karofsky's skull or the bench itself, but he didn't care. This felt _good._ He wanted to make it last. He loosened his grip around the bigger boy's throat, returning to smacking his head again wood, again and again and again. Kurt saw as Dave began to bleed, dark red drippping between the wood and spilling onto the floor. It excited Kurt, only fuelling him along.  
Kurt pulled Karofsky up, his head lolling about slightly, before he stuffed the boy's bleeding head into his open locker. Smashing the door closed onto Dave's neck, the bleeding boy let out a cry of pain, words muffled under the sweatshirts and towels that were packed into Dave's locker. Pleas of 'stop' and 'I'm so sorry, I promise I'll never touch any of you again', were mixed with sobs and the repeated swing and smash of the metal door impacting with exposed skin. The sharp metal had cut into Dave's neck, a deep red gash slicing it's way way through the layers of flesh. Kurt began to laugh, and soon David Karofsky fell quiet and stopped struggling. Still Kurt continued, long after Dave stopped.  
Stepping back, Kurt looked at what he'd done. The locker room seemed to be covered in blood, too much blood. Dave's body lay limp, head resting in that locker, like some kind of effort at comedy. But none of this was funny to Kurt anymore. Why had he been laughing? Why had he enjoyed it? Look at the mess he'd just made.  
_"Hello Kurt." _The voice was high and cold, and no longer in his head. He turned to see himself in the mirror opposite, poised and elegant and not the blubbering mess he was right now.  
"_See, isn't it nice when you let me play for a change..." _Mirror Kurt practically purred smiling over at the body in the corner. "_Wasn't it nice to not be the victim for a change?"_  
"You, you did this! You murdered him!" Kurt shouted at his reflection. Mirror Kurt stiffled a laugh.  
"We_ did this Kurt. We got our revenge! What you've wanted for years! You seem a little upset by it all..." _Tears were rolling down his face, his face screwing up while he sobbed.  
"Of course I'm upset you just made me murder someone! What the fuck!" Kurt slid down the locker next to Dave's body, crying loudly into where he was curled into himself. Mirror Kurt cocked his head to the side, observing the situation.  
"_You enjoyed it, don't deny it. And stop crying. It's unnattractive." _Kurt heard footsteps move beside him. He looked up, but no one was there. Checking the mirror, he saw that Mirror Kurt was standing next to where he sat, gazing down at him curiously.  
"Just go away." Kurt whispered through his tears.  
"_I told you Kurt, I can't go. We're one and the same."  
_Kurt sat up. "The same? We are nothing alike! You get off on blood and killing! That is sick! I'm nothing like you!" Mirror Kurt smirked.  
"_I am you, Kurt. Just a part that you're not so familiar with. I like musicals, I like performing. I think that boy you met at Dalton the other day is totally spunky. I can speak French, I can kick a football. I know everything about you and more. And I know how I can help you out."_ Kurt raised his head again to look into Mirror Kurt's crystal eyes.  
"Really?"  
"_Really._" Hesitating Kurt rose.  
"How."  
"_Clean up the mess. There's bleach in the cupboard over there. Use the shirts and towels the oaf bled on, and then burn them in the back parking lot. In his pocket are his car keys. He drives a green 1986 chevy. It's the only one left in the lot anyway. Drive him up to the ravine, and then place him in the driver's seat. Let it roll down the hill. It'll crash and the police will think it was just an accident. They're all idiots around here anyway. Then you go home, wash that blood off your hands, and you smile. We smile. Because that bastard is gone and he'll never, ever bother you again."  
_Kurt nodded and set to work, Mirror Kurt disappearing without a trace.

* * *

Kurt drove Karofsky's car to the top of the hill. The ravine was below them, ready to capture victims of reckless driving. And ruthless murder. Car accidents were common up here, the road made of gravel and full of pot holes, not to mention the lack of white markings and sign posts. It was practially a death trap.  
Kurt parked the car, just before the ledge heading down into trees and rocks. He dragged Karofsky's lifeless figure, propping him up into the driver's seat as if he'd been behind the wheel the entire time. Making sure to leave his seatbelt unbuckled, Kurt leaned over him, pulling off the hand brreak, and switching the car into 'drive'. Quickly closing the door, Kurt moved to the back, giving the green car an extra push. It began to roll, down the hill and off into the death trap of boulders and pinetrees. Dave's car fell fast. Soon, Kurt saw only a small green spot, tipped on its side and the very bottom. The body was out of sight.  
A sigh of relief escaped Kurt's lips. Even from here it looked like an accident. Kurt had made sure to skid the tires when parking, creative two lines of dark tracks leading off into the drop. Kurt started to walk back down the road, heading to the bus shelter that was at the bottom of the huge hill. He smiled to himself.  
_See? I told you it was fun.  
_"Remind me to listen to you more often," Kurt whispered to himself as he jogged along the road.

* * *

Three days after the student body of McKinely high had heard the news about Dave Karofsky's 'accident', the entire Glee club was confused at Kurt's sudden change of mood. He was smiling more, laughing, and dancing and just enjoying himself. The kids in glee all noticed how he held himself better, more elegantly. He'd told Mercedes about meeting Blaine, and word spread, all of them assumed that this new man in Kurt's life was his reason to smile. The fact that Kurt's main tormentor had recently passed must have also been a contributing factor to his mood change, but none of them dared admit it. People started leaving Kurt alone now that Dave was gone. Him along with the rest of the glee club.  
No one knew the real reason Kurt was so cheerful all of a sudden.  
"Are we hanging out after school tomorrow still Kurt?" Mercedes asked that day at lunch as she shoved a tot into he mouth. Kurt looked up from the salad he'd been picking at fondly.  
"Oh, sorry 'Cedes. I can't. I promised Blaine we'd hang out because he's busy this weekend. Friday?"  
Mercedes smiled. "Sure thing. But you better introduce me to this Blaine soon, he needs my tick of approval before you two can get your mack on."  
"Please, Mercedes, we're just friends." _For now.  
_Kurt grinned in agreeance with the voice. He went back to his salad, and listening to Mercedes talk on about their plans for the weekend.

* * *

**Truth be told, Blaine Anderson only met the **_**real **_**Kurt Hummel once.  
The frightened boy who had walked into Dalton looking for something he wasn't sure he wanted.  
The next time he saw Kurt, he had changed.  
Kurt Hummel wasn't that frightened little boy anymore.  
So Blaine could only blame himself when he'd realised he'd fallen in love with a monster.**

* * *

**AN: Would anyone be interested in a soundtrack that I've been putting together to go with this story? It's only and idea I have based on the playlist I abuse when I write this fic. Leave your opinion in a review? Much appreciated.**


	8. Chapter Seven: The Call

**AN: I'm super working to a deadline now, as all my performance classes go back next week. This story will be complete in three weeks! **

* * *

It was 4am in Los Angeles, California, when Rachel Berry was woken by the phone call.  
Tired, she fumbled for her wildly buzzing cell, hitting the answer button after sharply wincing at the bright screen lights. Groggily, disorientated, she answered. "Hello?  
For 3 long seconds all she heard was calm breath.  
"Hello, who is this? Do you have any idea what time this is? Or even who you're calling?" Rachel was always grumpy when someone interrupted her sleep. Sleep was no longer something she took for granted.  
"I know who you are, Rachel Berry. I also would place a bet that you can't figure out who I am. Even though we know each other quite well." Rachel was scared silent.  
"I just wanted to tell you this. I know who the baby daddy is of the kid you're hiding, you filthy fucking_ whore_. And I'm not entirely sure who I'm going to kill first. You, him... the girl? I'll get back to you."  
The line went dead.  
Rachel's body began to shake violently. Her hand came to her mouth, an attempt to muffle the sobs escaping her body, pure terror overcoming her tiny frame. Someone knew. Someone wanted to hurt her daughter. Someone wanted to hurt the man she'd been secretly in love with since their college days.  
She'd played terrified before, but never, had she ever experienced horror like she was feeling now.

**But that's a little later on.  
Now time to fill in the gaps. **

* * *

It was 4pm in Lima, Ohio, when Blaine Anderson was woken by a phone call.  
He'd drifted to sleep sprawled across the long white sofa in the living room, exhausted from his run earlier that day. The shrill tone caused him to bolt upright, suddenly alert to the world. He rubbed at his eyes, about to stand to answer the ringing, when he heard a chuckle somewhere behind him. "It's okay Blaine, I'll get it," Kurt told him from where he was making himself a cup of coffee in the kitchen. Placing down his things he moved to answer the phone which was still buzzing on the hook, Blaine flopping back down on the couch with an appreciative smile.  
"Hello, Kurt Hummel speaking," his bright voice said into the receiver. "Oh hi!" Kurt responded, coming over to sit by Blaine on the sofa. Kurt lightly smacked his legs, and indication for Blaine to move them so he could have room. Lifting them up silently, Kurt sat and Blaine rested them over his knees. "Hold on Finn, I'll put you on speaker. Blaine just woke up from a Nana-Nap." Kurt pressed a button and then placed the phone on the glass coffee table in front of them. "Okay, we can both hear you now!" Blaine twisted around so that he was now facing Kurt and the phone.  
"Hey Blaine, uhh, where was I?" Finn's voice was rough over the line.  
"You were telling me about Sam," Kurt informed his brother.  
"Oh, right. Well Blaine knows what I told him this morning, and I bet he told you that too. I'm not supposed to release this kind of information but you're my family and you're friends of Sam. I trust you guys. You deserve to know what happened, not a glossed over police file for the public.  
"It was confirmed by doctors that it was his allergies. At the scene we found a plate of peanut butter and choc chip cookies. Freshly baked... Gosh, remember Kurt, you used to bake those all the time back in high school? I'll never be able to eat one ever again, I'm sorry. Um, there were bruises around his throat, so that means someone had their... their hands around him. And then there's the glitter. It was all over him, mainly down his throat and in his mouth. Pink glitter. Jeez, I'll never be able to look at one of your scrapbooks ever again either Kurt..."  
Blaine spoke up, "So it is a murder investigation?" Kurt side-eyed his fiancée.  
"Yes, it's an undergoing investigation. But what I don't understand is how someone could hurt Sam, y'know? He was such a good guy... He never had any enemies. Not that I ever knew of. I mean, what's the motive?"  
_Getting the stupid bitch to learn his place. _Kurt smiled internally at the thought.  
"...I have no idea either. But it must be someone he knew. How else would they have known about the peanuts? This wasn't an accident either. The glitter is obvious there. It's almost like a trademark, like some serial killers have. Finn, have you cross referenced murder archives around the country to see if there have ever been any murder cases where the killer has left glitter? Its kind of unusual, but I think you should check, see if there is any connections," Blaine told Finn seriously. Blaine often helped Finn on cases, the other guys down at the station believing that Finn was just full of good ideas. Finn hesitated before replying to the advice.  
"That's a pretty good plan there Blaine. We haven't done that yet, but I'll tell the boys that we should be doing that. At the moment we really don't know much. We're having a forensics team come down tomorrow morning to check the place out. But I really just told you all I know. I'll talk to you both later when I know anything more. Thanks Blaine. Bye," and Finn hung up the phone. Blaine hung up their end of the line and sat up. Kurt was still.  
There was only silence between.  
Finally Blaine spoke. "Kurt, if you had anything to do with this..."  
Kurt said nothing. After a moment he stood, leaving the room silently. Abandoning the coffee he'd been making before Finn called, Kurt went to lock himself inside his office. Blaine ran his fingers through his curls in frustration. "Jesus fucking Christ..." he muttered.  
He knew how much of a jealous bitch Kurt could be, but this was bad. If he'd really done this like Blaine suspected, what would he do if he ever found out about Rachel? About Charlie?  
Blaine swallowed. Suddenly it seemed he had a lot more to lose now.  
He checked the clock on the wall. 4:25pm. They must have landed by now. They would now be in L.A and so far away from him and Kurt.  
They weren't safe though. No one was safe around a green-eyed monster.

* * *

Rachel was greeted back on set Monday morning with an early morning call time and a scene with the one cast member that she honestly could not stand. Grumbling silently to herself she trudged from costume to where her scene was being shot with her herbal tea in hand.  
"Rachel! We gotta get things moving are you ready?" The director barked at her as she walked in.  
"I'm ready as I'll ever be Dave, where's Faye?" She asked coming to sit in her cast seat. Faye was always late on set. One of many reasons that her fellow actress was such a pain.  
"She's in makeup, she'll be here in 5," Dave responded while typing out a text on his phone. Rachel rolled her eyes and went back to her drink. Frances came to sit next to her, fixing her short black bob in the hand held mirror she clutched in her palm.  
"Morning Rachel."  
"Morning, Fran," Rachel said smiling at her agent. The petite woman next to her was one of Rachel's best friends in L.A, and usually who she spent the majority of her time with.  
"How was your week off darling? Everything go smoothly?" Frances slipped the mirror away in her bag, swapping it for the coffee one of the P.A's was currently handing her.  
"It was... eventful. I ran into Kurt and Blaine." Rachel let the fact slip rather casually, causing Frances to almost spit out her drink.  
"What? I didn't think they still lived in Lima... Gosh, how did that go down? Especially talking to Blaine..."  
"I told him. Blaine. And Charlie met him and Blaine already adores her. I think he feels terrible, which of course, is understandable. He gets why I never told him though. I think he wishes that he knew about Charlie a little earlier at least. I mean, it was a shock for him! I think he handled it really well..." Rachel trusted Frances with everything. The woman was the reason Rachel's private life was so well protected. If Frances didn't want something to be public knowledge, it never would be.  
"And Kurt?"  
"Kurt can never know." Rachel's voice sounded slightly broken. Frances rubbed her arm reassuringly.  
"Darling, it's all going to work out. Charlie is a beautiful girl, and now she's met her dad who seems to agree. Things are going to work out, I promise."  
Rachel smiled warmly at her friend, eyes tearing up. "I hope so."  
Dave called for Rachel's attention, her scene with Faye preparing to be filmed.  
"You should stop gossiping and get to work Rachel!" Faye sneered from where she stood in the camera's shot. Rachel fumed to herself and handed her phone and tea to Frances.  
"Seriously, I am never doing another film with her again, you hear me? She is intolerable."  
Frances laughed, "I feel you sister!" Rachel grinned sarcastically before taking her spot on the set.

* * *

Rachel's scene ran for a little over an hour; take after take for perfection. Faye kept messing up her lines much to everyone's frustration. The director called for the line of dialogue again for yet another camera take.  
"Isobel, I've told you, I can't… I won't do that to him. I love him too much for that." Rachel's character spoke with fear shaking in her voice as she gazed up at Faye's 'Isobel'.  
"Holly, this isn't even a discussion. You tell me where the hell he is right now or so help me I'll call the police to come and cart you away too." Faye leaned over and snarled in Rachel's face. In the back of her mind she smiled, _finally_ Faye had gotten the line correct.  
"Do it then. Call the cops. See how I care-" Rachel began to shout, before she saw Frances come jogging hurriedly over, calling for a cut and pointing at Rachel then to her phone in her hands. Rachel gasped, leaping from her seat and running over to Frances a string of apologies flying from her lips.  
"Uhh, okay, everyone take 10," Dave announced confused, the cast and crew disbanding across the film set.  
"Jesus, not very professional is she?" Faye muttered to the makeup artist touching up her makeup.  
"At least she knows her part when asked to," the makeup artist bit back.  
Faye shut up after that.

"Sorry, sorry, hi! Rachel here," Rachel answered the phone in a fluster around the corner of the cement walls of the film set. Frances leaned against the wall next to her, head twisting to make certain that they were alone.  
"Hey, it's Blaine."  
Frances noticed Rachel's eyes grow wide. A smile played at her lips as she watched her friend talk on the phone like an excited 14 year old. "Blaine! Hi. What's wrong? I'm at work right now, anything up?"  
Frances saw how Rachel's eyes went from excitement to distress in an instant as Blaine began to speak. Frances' own eyes narrowed in concern, as she waited for Rachel to finish speaking.  
"Oh my god… Finn told you that?" Rachel was poker faced for a moment. "Uh huh."  
"Rachel whatever you do, I need you to promise me something okay?" Blaine said through the phone.  
"Sure, anything Blaine." Rachel frowned as he told her. "Is that everything?" She asked after a moment.  
"Yeah, I just wanted to let you know. Please, take care of yourself, and of Charlie. I'll talk to you later Rachel, I'll let you get back to work."  
"Okay, Bye Blaine-" Rachel began, but he had hung up before she had the chance to say her goodbyes.  
Rachel hung up her phone before leaning her head back against the cool cement, eyes closed.  
"Rach, darling, what's happened? What did he say?" Frances asked, worry in her words.  
"I just found out the guy I went to visit this weekend's been murdered." She said flatly. Frances stared, mouth open.  
"Oh god, darling, I'm so sorry," Frances said pulling her into a hug. Rachel wrapped her arms around her friend's slender frame.  
"Yeah… It's kind of surreal…" Rachel eyes tearing up slightly. But the fact she'd just discovered Sam Evans had been murdered wasn't what was frightening her.  
Blaine had told her something, and made her swear to stick to his words.  
_"__Whatever you do, don't come back to Lima. Don't come back for his funeral."_

* * *

"-I'll talk to you later Rachel, I'll let you get back to work." Blaine hung up his cell phone, before throwing it on the couch cushion beside him. He massaged his eyelids with his palms, trying to soothe the searing headache. With a groan he sat back in the couch.  
"Hey baby," Kurt appeared from his office, a freshly tailored suit jacket draped over his forearm. "Who was on the phone?"  
"Oh, no one. Just wedding stuff. God, this stuff is so stressful. It's giving me a headache." Blaine lied coolly to his groom-to-be.  
"Aww, do you want some Tylenol?"  
"Yeah, that would be good actually," Blaine said in relief.  
"First come here and try this on for me baby." Kurt held up the deep crimson material in his hand. Blaine stood up coming over to where Kurt stood, shrugging off the light jacket he wore as he did. Kurt slipped the sleeves over Blaine's arms, tugging at the fabric and making adjustments here and there. A few minutes later Kurt slid the jacket off Blaine's shoulders and went to hang it back up in his office before coming back to get Tylenol. He handed two of the little pills to Blaine who washed them down with a glass of water.  
"Thanks Kurt," Blaine smiled, kissing him on the cheek before heading up the flight of stairs to his own home office. Kurt's office was one of the biggest rooms in the house, doubling as a sewing room. As an independent designer with his own online boutique he needed the space. Blaine worked as a freelance journalist and as a phantom writer, currently working on a deadline. His office nothing more than a cozy study with a large desk and a comfy office chair. Blaine honestly didn't need to work, as he was sitting pretty on a huge inheritance since his parents had passed some years before. His younger sister had taken her equally huge share and run, off working as a professional ballet dancer in New York or somewhere just as glamorous.  
Kurt watched as Blaine disappeared. He saw Blaine had left the jacket he was wearing before draped over back of the couch. Kurt went to pick it up and place it on a hook somewhere, when he noticed Blaine's phone still sitting on the cushion where he'd tossed it. Kurt picked it up with slender hands.  
Flicking through the call history he spied the number that Blaine had recently dialed. Memorising it for later, he quickly hit redial, lifting the phone to his ear.  
Three rings later he got an answer. An unfamiliar female voice answered in a professional tone. "Hello, this is Frances Young, Talent Agent, answering for Miss Rachel Berry. Miss Berry is busy right now, is there anything I could help you with?"  
Kurt debated whether or not to say "No, thankyou that is all I needed," but decided against it. They could probably trace his voice back. Instead he just hung up.  
He threw the phone back down with a little too much force to where it had sat before.  
"That's not nice Blaine. Lying isn't very nice." Kurt whispered to himself before returning to his office.

Kurt locked the office door, before clearing his work table and fishing out on of his large design books. He flipped to a new page, quickly sketching out a muddled map of arrows and smudges. Lists of weapons and torture methods were written and scribbled out and re-written again and again. A small list of names began to appear in the margin, numbers appearing next to them, announcing some kind of order. It may have been hours later, but finally Kurt took one final glance over the mess of pencil and highlighter that was his page. Committing it all to memory, he tore the page out, before fishing a silver cigarette lighter out of his pants pocket. He lit the corner of the page and watched as the thick paper burned, along with the lists and plans he'd just made. _Destroying the evidence_. The amber light flickered across his face in the now dark room, a crooked, crazed smile upon his lips. The final ashes of the page fell the floor and burned itself out as Kurt watched. He returned the lighter to his pocket, and then turned to his laptop. He pulled up his Facebook, clicking twice to search his friends list.  
It took two words for Kurt to figure out where he was headed next.  
Two words on a stupid social networking site to mark a man for death.  
_Lives in Chicago, Illinois. _  
Kurt grabbed his car keys, rushing from his office and forgetting to close his browser. He didn't even lock his office door, shouting something about heading out for a little while to Blaine who he knew wouldn't leave his desk for the next 10 hours anyway. He'd call him later. Probably.  
Kurt climbed in the dark car they kept hidden away in their garage, the one without the plates. He quickly reversed out of the speeding off into the growing darkness. The clock on the dashboard read 7:12pm as he drove off into evening. His mind was racing with anticipation, like it always did. The tools he needed were safely in the back, already packed, like always. Kurt began t o laugh, unable to contain his excitement.  
"Coming to get you now, you sorry bastard."

* * *

**Those two words out of interest?  
**_**Sebastian Smythe.**_

* * *

__**AN: If you haven't guessed yet, Sebastian is next on the hit list.  
Its funny, because Kurt is pretty much just killing off my favourite characters. opps.  
Reviews always appreciated! I'd also love to know what people think of the soundtrack idea? Yay or nay? I don't think this story has enough readers to even bother but I like sharing music, especially if I think it'll enhance the listening experience. or whatever.**

**Thanks erryone! **


	9. Chapter Eight: The Second

**AN: Wow, this took a while! Its a good 3k words longer than any other chapter so have fun reading! And I really wanted to add in Sebastian's little slushie attack on Blaine in the Michael episode as a plot point so I had to wait for the episode to air. Spoilers for that if you haven't seen it.**

**And also a warning: FREQUENT DRUG USE AND TALK. **

**this chapter so scan-da-lousssssss. **

* * *

**Sebastian Smythe was in no way still the boy he had been in high school.  
In high school he'd been sly, cunning and greedy. If he wanted something he'd get it.  
He broke the rules, and did not care who caught him.  
There was a point in his life, where he had hit rock bottom. He needed to change his life around, and quite frankly he had succeeded in doing just that.  
Senior year he'd been caught by his parents dipping into his college fund to buy cocaine from some dealer two counties over. Discovering their son's habit, they sent him to rehab, and that's when he'd finally decided he needed the change.  
The Sebastian he was now was almost unrecognisable beside the Sebastian he'd been.  
Now he was a husband, a father of two beautiful girls. He was an architect, and earned a nice welcome amount.  
Though of course he still had his smirky little meerkat face.**

* * *

It was late. Sebastian only had got home a few hours ago after a long day at work, made dinner for himself and his daughter, then settled her into bed. He'd read her her favourite story, Snow White, and kissed her goodnight. Now Sebastian was settling down with a drink, ready to zone out as he watched old horror films that only ran this late at night. Sebastian barely ever drank, but every now and again, after a hard meeting or a bad day he just needed something to help him relax. He sat himself down, his tie loose and jacket removed, sleeves rolled to his elbows, flicking through the channels to find something in black and white to watch. He'd settled on something that looked like an old cult vampire film, when he heard a tiny sweet voice coming from the hall.

"Daddy, when is Papa and Mollie coming home?" he turned to see his youngest daugther Cady standing in the hall way, her eyes sad. It was the first time she'd been away from both her Papa and her sister at the same time.  
"Sweetie, come here," Sebastian beckoned for his daughter to come over to him. She ran over to him, jumping onto his lap and throwing her arms around his neck, burying her face into his neck. "Cady, Papa has to take Mollie to that specialist in California remember? They'll only be gone a few days." Sebastian did his best to reassure the child clinging to him. "I miss them too baby, but they'll be back here with us soon enough."  
"Will this new doctor fix Mollie? Will they make her all better?" Cady popped her head up and stared into her father's. The green colour matched the other's perfectly.  
"I hope so." Sebastian's voice cracked as he spoke. Cady kissed him on his forhead, mimicking the gesture he would do to her whenever she was upset.  
"Don't be sad Daddy. Remember how you and Papa always tell Mollie and me there are angels watching over us? The angels won't let anything happen to Mollie. That's the angels' job!"  
Sebastian had to smile at his daughter's optimism. "I know baby. Sometimes Daddy forgets about the angels." He kissed his daughter's forehead like she had done to him moments before. "I love you. And your sister, and Papa. And I won't ever let anything happen to any of you, ever. I promise. Even if the angels let you down, I promise I never, ever will."  
"I love you Daddy."  
"I love you more than life itself, baby."

They sat like that for a minute or two, just father and daughter, wrapped in each other's arms. The small girl was barely 5 but the things she would say to both of her father's were what kept them going when things got hard. James was taking Mollie to a neuronic specialist in San Fransisco, yet another attempt to try and get Mollie's tumours under control. It was hard to have a child with cancer. It's even harder to have a child with brain cancer.  
Sebastian tried his best to be a great dad, but when your 7 year old daughter has a terminal illness it's hard. Most days Cady was all that kept him going.

"How about we make some popcorn and we watch this crazy old movie, and we have a bit of a sleepover while Mollie and Papa aren't here, hey? Just us, and I think there is some ice cream in the freezer..." Sebastian grinned as he saw his daughter's face light up at the mention of ice cream.  
"Really Daddy? Wow that'd be so fun!" Cady leapt of him and ran over to the kitchen and into the pantry, searching popcorn.  
"Hold on kiddo," Sebastian laughed as he rolled off of the couch, following Cady's path. He scooped her up in his arms, lifting her so that she could reach the box of microwave popcorn sitting on the very top shelf. She picked out a blue packet and giggled, Sebastian carrying her out to the kitchen and placing her on the counter.  
"How long do we cook it for?" Sebastian quizzed her.  
"2 minutes and 40 seconds!" Cady said, having memorised the instructions.  
"And which side up?"  
"Raising the roof!" She said, giggling again, as she held her hands, palm up towards the roof, copying her father's actions. Sebastian put the bag into the microwave, the blue flaps facing upwards, like they were about to be 'raising the roof'. Sebastian punched in the time that Cady had listed off and watched as the blue bag began to turn. He turned to face Cady, lifting her off the counter.  
"You must go retrieve you blanket and Special Agent Charles and then we will rendeverous on the couch. We only have 2 minutes and 30 seconds left. That is your mission, Special Agent C!" Sebastian soluted his giggling daughter as she ran off, joining in on the game Sebastian started. Sebastain fished out a large plastic bowl and the ice cream tub from the freezer, along with two spoons, Cady's favourite kangaroo spoon amongst them. Sebastian leaned against the sink as he waited for the popcorn to be ready. Gazing out the window mindlessly, it took him a moment to realise there was someone standing outside. Under the street lamp stood a tall slender man, dressed head to toe in black. He was extremely pale and his light brown hair was styled to perfection. He was staring straight at Sebastian, fully aware of the fact that there was actually someone at the window. The man stood perfectly still underneath the lamp. The street was oddly deserted, even if it were so late.  
"No, it couldn't be..." Sebastian muttered to himself, unable to tear his eyes away from the man staring up at him from the street. Sebastian watched as the man's lips twisted up into a cruel smile, when a sudden _pop!_ caused him to jump.  
The microwave popcorn had just begun to pop, Sebastian feeling stupid to have jumped at such a thing. He turned to look back out onto the street but the man was gone. Maybe he'd imagined it...

The kitchen lights began to flicker, sending the room into partial darkness and back again for a few moments. Sebastian frowned. There had never been a problem with any of the circuts before. Now was not the time for them to be playing up. James knew all about that technical shit, not him. He grumbled about in the flickering darkness, his hand brushing against something powdery, before he heard the finally beep of the microwave. The lights returned to normal. Sebastian looked down to his hand, a sickly familiar white powder sticking to his fingers. "Oh my god," Sebastian choked as he quickly brushed the substance off of him. Looking again, his hand was completely clean. Quickly, he emptied the popcorn into a bowl, gathered the spoons and icecream, and headed out to meet Cady in the living room. She sat waiting for him, clutching an orange blanket and a stuffed zebra, a huge grin on her face.  
"Mission accomplished, sir!" Cady said, Sebastian smiling weakly at her.  
"Well done. I'm lucky I have such a well trained Special Agent in the house, isn't it?" He said, trying to shake his strange discomfort.  
"Two Special Agents Daddy!" Cady exclaimed holding up Charles the Zebra. "And this is an apartment!"  
"Smart and pretty! Where did I find such a perfect little girl?" Sebastian laughed, coming to sit next to her. Cady snuggled into his side and reached over for the popcorn.  
"Angels must be watching over you too daddy." Sebastian had to laugh at that.  
"And funny. Add that to the list." Sebastian said throwing a handful of popcorn into his mouth. He chewed slowly wrapping his arm around Cady and Charles.

**There were no angels watching over Sebastian.  
But there was **_**something**_** watching him.  
Or someone.  
Cady was lucky she was such a well trained 'Special Agent'.  
It is really what saved her life.**

15 minutes into the crummy vampire flick, and half a bowl of popcorn later, Cady was already drooping to sleep. Sebastian chuckled to himself as he watched the little girl struggling to keep her eyes open. Eventually, sleep overtook her, her eyes fluttering to a close. Sebastian waited a few minutes before carefully lifting his daughter and carrying her to her bedroom. Sebastian felt as Charles slipped from Cady's sleepy hands and fell to the ground with a soft thump. He bent to retrieve it, eyes to the ground. He'd ducked behind the couch to fetch the small animal and when he emerged her almost dropped the toy and his daughter.  
Standing before him, the small white couch the only thing between them, was the man he had seen standing underneath the street lamp. Dressed head to toe in black, elegant black, and pale as anything. Sebastian recognised that face. One of the many faces he'd so often pissed off when he was the old Sebastian, a face he never thought he'd ever see again.  
Kurt Hummel was standing in his apartment, the look on his face enough to kill.

* * *

Kurt had driven all night, only stopping for gas somewhere in Indiana. He'd payed no attention to speed limits, he'd sped all the way into the city itself. Early morning sun had seemed to follow him, trailing him from it's position in the sky. He'd stopped and parked the car under a overpass, making sure to keep out of the way of any homeless people. He walked 12 blocks, finding a rundown little 24 hour diner, ordering coffee and asking for the phone book. Life in New York had prepared him for cheap coffee and lots of walking, the bitter taste in his mouth and the sting in his heels felt familiar. The chubby waitress threw the thick yellow book onto the table before him and left without a word. Quickly, Kurt flicked through the thin pages, searching for _'Smythe'._ After 10 minutes of searching he found what he needed. _Mr James and Sebastian Smythe, Carlyle Home Apartments, 256 Harper Ave. Aprt. 5B. 5888-566-032.  
_Kurt simply stared at the words and numbers, a smile in his eyes, memorising the address and phone number.  
It'd been easier than he thought. He'd pass by just to be sure sometime today, scope the building out. Then he'd hit the shops. Kurt Hummel had the day to waste before he got down to business. He might as well spend it spending money. Maybe he'd go see a show in he evening, Chicago was big for theatre after all.  
He's was going to do whatever he fucking wanted. There was no one to tell him no after all.

* * *

"Hello Sebastian." The words rolled coolly off his tongue. Kurt Hummel's face was paler than usual under the artificial lights of the apartment. Sebastian was frozen in place, Cady cradled in his arms.  
"What... What are you doing here." Sebastian's tone was flat.  
"I'm here on business actually. Very important business." Kurt eyes were wandering around the living space, looking at family photographs on the walls and mantle. "Just thought I'd pop in for a quick chat."  
"At 2 in the morning? Yeah, thanks. Get the hell outta my apartment." Sebastian had never had a problem telling people to stick it.  
"Actually, I won't. Go put your daughter to bed first. I wouldn't want any trouble..." Kurt's voice trailed off. Sebastian swallowed, before backing out of the room slowly, eyes never leaving Kurt's figure. When he was forced out of eyeshot, Sebastian half ran to Cady's room, tucking her safely under her duvet with C harles. He kissed her forehead and whispered 'I love you', before heading out to where the intruder waited. Making sure her locked the door from the inside, he entered the living room, only to find it empty.

"In here Sunshine."  
Sebastian followed the voice to the kitchen. Kurt stood at the sink, lazily running the cold tap as he cleaned a fresh green apple he'd swiped from Sebastian's fruit bowl. Shutting off the faucet, he shook off the water droplets and took a huge bite. "Hmm," He mused, considering the fruit thoughtfully. "At least it's fresh."  
"What do you want Kurt." Sebastian's voice was hard. Kurt looked up from his snack, chewing slowly as he took in Sebastian's body language. Stiff shoulders, hard jaw, narrow eyes. The kid wasn't playing.

"Look, I want to give you something. Something I've been meaning to for years... Just haven't had the chance."  
"We haven't spoken since high school Kurt, and frankly, we didn't really speak. We played a tennis match of catty insults and slurs. A couple punches thrown in here and there. It's not like we were friends."  
"Well why not start now?" Kurt moved towards Sebastian's spot just in the doorway, taking another bite of his apple. "My surprise is something you'll probably appreciate."  
In a second, the lights in Sebastian's apartment completely cut out.  
It was a mere five moments later when they flickered back on with a groan, the counter in front of him now cleared of everything except three things.

**There was a loaded pistol.  
A cherry slushie.  
And 4 prepared lines of pure cocaine.**

"Chose your poison, pretty boy."

* * *

He'd waited until he'd seen Sebastian head out for work this morning, his daughter and her backpack in tow, before he'd decided to check out this place for himself.  
The first thing he noticed was the technical office was in the lobby, and was unlocked and unoccupied.  
The second was that the elevators were out of order.  
And the third was that an all access security pass was quite literally just lying around.  
"Jesus, atleast make something a little challenging why don't you," Kurt mumbled to himself and his swiped up the card, a smirk on his lips.

* * *

Sebastian's eyes were wider than he'd ever thought possible when he spied the snow white powder on the counter. Memories of hits and highs from years ago flooded back, causing him to shudder. He'd been clean for years now. He wasn't going to start again.  
"W-what do you expect me to do with this?" Sebastian asked flustered as he pointed towards the counter. Kurt was standing behind him now, watching as the red rose in his cheeks, a sheen of sweat visible on his brow.  
"I told you. Choose one." Sebastian stood, unmoving again staring at the three items. What did this mean?  
"Shall I explain then?" Kurt began, stepping around Sebastian silently, causing him to jump. "These are three ways in which you can die. The first is the gun. Play a lovely little game of Russian Roulette for one? Sure you're used to playing with yourself Sebastian, there is really no difference. Or, you could down that slushie there. If you remember, back what, nine years almost? Blaine had to get major eye surgery. Thanks to a little fireball slushie of yours. That there is the same, only worse. Pure sodium chloride. And trust me, there is a lot in there..." Kurt was leaning against the counter top, staring at Sebastian, yet avoiding his eye.

"You're insane...' Sebastian began, but Kurt raised his hand to silence him.  
"Not finished talking yet. The final way you can kill yourself is by doing those lines over there. It won't literally kill you, but it will kill your image. It will kill your personal record of 'being drug-free' or whatever. You're family will find out and then they'll leave you, and then what is there for you to live for? Nothing. I've seen the way you act with your daughter, she's your life. I guessing that's no different with the others." Sebastian was silent.  
"And If you refuse Sebastian? I kill you. I kill you, and your daughter, and 'Special Agent Charles' in there. I'll kill her infront of your eyes. I'll force you to watch as I slit her throat and cut out her heart for you to wear on your sleeve. And I'll find Mollie and James and kill them just has brutally, for your eyes only."  
"Why the fuck would you even think that!" Sebastian exclaimed. "You sick fuck! Cady is only a child!"  
"I'd watch it with the insults, Sebastian. Now choose, or you know what'll happen."

* * *

Kurt's morning had been much too easy. First, he'd simply destroyed any secruity tapes that showed his image. There weren't many, seeing how easily he'd broken in. Second he'd simply switched off all the camera for the building. He'd knicked the master set of keys and shown himself to the boiler room, where he knew the power generator lived. Sussing it out, Kurt understood how he'd be able to cut the power when he needed. He was finished by 11 o'clock.  
Kurt bought two pairs of jeans from a corner boutique, a nifty little bowtie and matching vest, before grabbing some dinner and heading to a production of Sweeney Todd in the evening. He watched as each character was killed off, chuckling to himself as he was filled with future ideas for certain brunettes.

* * *

Sebastian was at a loss. Sweat pooled off of him, tears clouded his vision and thoughts pounded at the walls of his head, fighting to be listened to. He could barely breathe. One of his options ended it all. Quickly, probably painlessly. Just messily... Another was just vengful. Pay back for once of his stupid mistakes in high school. That'd probably kill him anyway. But if he died, what was Kurt going to do with Cady? He couldn't leave her alone with him, not after what he'd just threatened.  
That left the final option. Looking over at the white powder alligned perfectly on the counter, could be what saved him.  
Sebastian couldn't tell what was more selfish. Killing himself, the easy way out, or succumbing to the drug that had once ruled his life for years.  
"Okay, I've chosen." He said at last.  
"Good, now prove it."

* * *

Cady was tucked under the covers, cuddled up to Charles. Her eyes were squeezed tight but her ears were wide open. She'd been woken a little while ago by raised voices from down the hall. She was hidden under the blanket, out of harm's way but she couldn't feel safe. Not without knowing if her daddy was alright. She'd thought about getting out of bed to check, but something playing on the back of her mind told her to stay put. She pulled Charles closer to her chest, slightly frightened at not knowing what was happening outside of her room.  
Her eyes suddenly snapped open when she heard a gun shot, followed immediately with a strangled cry and a thump to the floor. "Daddy?" Her terrified whispered asked the silence. A moment later she heard another gun shot. She slid out of bed, Charles in hand, a moved to unlock her door. She creeped out into the hallway, only to see a body lying limp out of the end door way leading into the kitchen. "Daddy?" Cady asked again, her voice bordering on hysterics.

* * *

Kurt watched as Sebastian thought it through. This was taking much too long. Kurt had a long drive home ahead of him, and the sooner this took, the better. Tormenting people wasn't even fun if they just stood there and mused the meaning of life or whatever Sebastian was currently thinking.  
"Okay, I've chosen." Sebastian finally spoke. _Thank fuck,_ Kurt thoughts buzzed.  
"Good, now prove it." Sebastian took a step toward the counter, facing Kurt. He passed over the gun, the slushie, stopping at the cocaine prepared. A rolled note was sitting there, ready for use. Sebastian's hands shook as he picked it up. Kurt's lips turned up into a smile as he watched Sebastian's decision play out. He toyed with it between his fingers for a seccnd.  
"I'm not that weak. I'd rather die." He tossed the note in his hands aside, moving back to the gun. He picked it up, opening his mouth and sticking it straight in there. Kurt was impressed, he'd never picked Sebastian to choose this option. He watched as the man infront of him hesitated, slowly sliding the gun out of his gullet.  
"Does it hurt, do you think... To be shot?" Sebastian asked timidly.  
"It's something I don't let happen to me very often. I've only been shot once. It does hurt. After that I decided I wouldn't let it happen again and I never have." Kurt answered honestly.  
"Well you're lucky streak is just about up," Sebastian snarled through gritted teeth, whipping the gun infront of him pulling the trigger in a nanosecond. Kurt barely had time to react until there was a gun being fired at his head.  
Sebastian had expected blood, a lot of it, brains and goo flying everywhere and the threat destroyed. He expected noise and the recoil that ached at his arms for weeks.  
But nothing happened.  
There was only the sound of Sebastian's anxious breathing in the room, Kurt's face a look of childish surprise. Then it was replaced with Kurt's high laughter.  
"Oh my god, you-actually, thought I loaded it?" Kurt said between beats of hard laughter, slightly out of breath. "Shit, ohmygod guess you really are as stupid as you look!" Sebastian looked down at the gun in his hands, checking the barrels; empty. He looked up when he heard the sound of a pistol being cocked, right infront of his face.  
"I wasn't going to let you go without having some fun first." Kurt's voice was dark and quiet, his words threatening. He lowered the pistol away from Sebastian's worried face, and pulled the trigger. The shot rang out and Sebastian yelped, hands coming to clutch at his exploded kneecap which Kurt had just fired at. He was dizzy from shock, staying quiet and upright for a moment too long for Kurt's liking. _Bang._ Another shot was fired into his strong knee, and he collapsed, falling backwards, and hanging halfway out into the hall. Sebastian's breathing was shallow as he saw Kurt coming over to lean down at him. Kurt was squatting next to him, their faces mere inches apart. "Wait here like a good little boy while I go get you a surprise. I'll be right back." Kurt purred, before standing. Spontaneously, he kicked the body lying infront of him hard, then disappeared to retrieve what he needed. Sebastian laid there helplessly until he heard the desperate little squeak of his daughter's voice. "Daddy?"

* * *

Sebastian turned his head the the left, making eye contact the the terrified little girl staring at him down the hall. She clutched the toy zebra so tightly in her hands, it's head might have popped right off. "Cady," Sebastian spluttered. It took all of his strength to roll over onto his stomach, and begin the comando crawl towards where Cady stood. Kurt's kick must have winded him, because it was getting harder and harder to breathe normally. Cady took a few steps forward to meet her struggling daddy. She knelt down beside him, despite being so frightened by the sight of him. "Cady, listen to me," Sebastian began, a hand coming to cup her tiny face. Smears of Sebastian's blood stained her tiny cheek. "There is a very, very bad man in the apartment, and he wants to hurt you. Daddy isn't going to let that happen, okay?" Tears fell freely from the man's eyes as he stared into his daughter's. "This is your mission," Sebastian's voice shook as he tried to to save Cady's life. "You and Special Agent Charles need to go into Daddy and Papa's room, and lock the door. Then, you must go and hide under Daddy and Papa's bed, and stay there. You can't say a word. And you mustn't come out, no matter what you hear, you need to stay hidden. Stay hidden until D-daddy comes and finds you." Sebastian's voice was swallowed by the sound of his sobs. He drew a deep breath and cotninued. "Do you understand, Special Agent C?" Cady was crying quietly and she nodded, throwing he arms around Sebatian's neck.  
"I love you Daddy," she cried into his neck, holding onto him for dear life. It broke Sebastian's heart.  
"I know, Cady, I love you too. This is why you need to listen to me and do what I say." Sebastian's ears pricked up as he heard muffled footsteps coming towards them. "Go Cady, you need to go now."  
Cady kissed her daddy and stood up, a small squeal escaping her lips as she saw the horror staring at them down the hall. She clutched Charles to her chest as she saw the thing that was trying to hurt her and had already hurt Daddy watching her. Sebastian turned to see Kurt's pale face, unreadable in the half-light. "Cady run!" Sebastian cried and she did. Cady ran into her fathers' room down the hall and locked it, before crawling under the bed, right to the back so her body was pinned against the wall and held Charles tight. She tried not to listen to the cries of pain she could hear only rooms away. She curled up and cried. The hardest tears falling once the apartment had grown quiet.

* * *

Kurt had only been gone a few short minutes when he'd returned to find Sebastian and little Cady, saying their last goodbyes. Cady was now hiding somewhere in the apartment, her father's idea of protecting her. Kurt preferred it this way. He really hadn't wanted to hurt the girl anyway. He wasn't even planning on it. He only came here for Sebastian. He only held a grudge against Sebastian. Cady was nothing to Kurt, she was just a child. She'd never done anything to Kurt. She was never going to be a threat to him.  
He wasn't even going to bother hurting her.  
"Sebastian, I told you to stay there." His voice was dark as he stepped towards him. Sebastian forced his stiff leg up as high as he could, hoping to kick Kurt in the groin, but Kurt was quicker, grabbing his foot, and beginning to drag him back to where they'd been. Sebastian cried out in pain all the way, music to Kurt's devilish ears. With strength that didn't seem to belong to his lithe frame, Kurt hoisted Sebastian's body up, placing him into a tall stool, his legs sticking out at awkward angles, slumping against the stool's back. Sebastian felt the cold chains strapping his hands together, another coming around to secure his waist. Kurrt didn't seem to bother with his legs, deeming them useless. Sebastian saw that his choices were still set out on the counter. Kurt followed his line of vision, and walked over to the counter.  
"That's for you, don't worry," he said pointing at the cherry slushie. He gentely picked up the rolled bill and leant down towards the lines. "You don't mind do you?"  
"Go ahead." Sebastian growled. Kurt smiled in gratitude and quickly went through the cocaine. Sebastian watched in disgust as he saw Kurt finish off the drugs in one hit. Kurt let out a low breathe before flicking away the money he'd used and coming back to Sebastian. His eyes were slightly more crazed than they'd been previously, if that were even possible.  
"Sorry, that's all I have." Kurt said with a smirk.

Sebastian was silent, glaring darkly at Kurt, as the man wandered about _his_ home like he owned the place. "Oh Sebastian," he stopped at one of the photoframes displayed in the living room. He held it up and showed Sebastian, so he knew what he was cooing over. And old photo dating back tp 2011 of a Warblers win at Show Choir Sectionals competition graced the black frame. "How nostalgic. Your Warbler days, huh. Shame they all pretty much hated you a month or two after this was taken." The smiling, delighted faces of each boy in uniform seemed to suddenly haunt Sebastian, as he was reminded for another of his many mistakes from the past.  
Kurt sat the stool down and made his way over to where Sebastian was tied. "Atleast, I never changed. I've always hated you."  
"Fuck you." Sebastian bit back. Kurt placed his hands on either thigh and leaned into Sebastian's face.  
"What was that?" he asked lightly.  
"I said, fuck. you."  
"I'd watch your tongue if I were you." Kurt moved to lean back, but before he could Sebastian spit right into the pale man's face. Slowly, he wiped away the warm salvia from his eyes. Kurt drew his hand back sharply and slapped Sebastian fully around the face. Sebastian grunted in pain, a bruise already beginning to form on his cheek. "Don't test the friendship."  
Kurt walked away, wiping his face on a cloth hanging by the oven. He moved back to Sebastian, not without collecting his special slushie first. Silently, he stepped right in front of the defensless man. And he threw.  
Seconds later, Sebastian was crying in pain, thrashing about in his chains as if were going to help him. The heat, was unbearable. It scorched at his skin, at his eyes, like fucking _fire_. He kept blinking, even though everytime he did, it felt like glass was piercing his eyelids. He just sat there screaming and crying and blinking and there was nothing he could do. Kurt sat there laughing to himself. Sebastian couldn't tell if it was because he was high or because he genuinely _enjoyed_ torturing him, but Kurt seem delighted by his pain.  
"Here, let me help you with that," Sebastian could barely see through the pain and red dye number six, when Kurt lifted a silver instrument and pressed it against his left eye. For a moment, Sebastian had no idea what was happening, and then the pain just become more intense. A blood curdling scream erupted from Sebastian's throat as he felt Kurt _literally scoop_ out his eyeball. The tear of blood vessels and nerves caused pain so surreal he didn't know how he was even still conscious. Kurt worked swiftly, but harshly, and minutes later, Sebastian was face to face with what could only be him. Or well, part of him. Kurt seemed to giggle like a child as he showed Sebastian his own eyeball, green irises and small pupils, completely unfocused, and slightly bloody. Sebastian was in a daze, his screaming finally having stopped.  
"Isn't this cool Sebastian?" Kurt asked, dangling the bloody ball infront of his remaining eye. "You really do have such a pretty colour eye y'know. I think I have a belt in this shade of green."  
"You're fucking crazy," Sebastian said breathlessly. He was growing used to the stinging, and looked over with his good eye to spy the dark red liquid spilling all too suddenly down his face. "This is fucked up..."  
"Watch, Sebastian, this is really cool. Did you know that the eye actually has no blood?" Sebastian watched as Kurt was suddenly _slicing open_ his own eye infront of him. Kurt popped it open, a small clear human lense popping out and falling into his hand. Swirling black liquid spilling from the popped ball. "Look at it," Kurt said dreamily, throwing the discarded eye parts onto the floor and flipping the empty ball inside out. A shiny blue and green colour lined the wall, catching off the artificial lights and causing them to glisten prettyily. Sebastian felt sick.  
"So pretty Sebastian..." Kurt's voice and face shifted out of focus as Sebastian fell out of conciousness.

* * *

Another splash of the oddly chilled yet burning slush, hit Sebastian's face hard, causing him to wake up with a scream. "It's rude to fall asleep when I'm talking to you Sebastian? Do you think I'm boring or something?" Sebastian writhed in excrutiating pain as Kurt raised a bloody silver spoon infront of his right eye. "Recognise it?"  
Sebastian tried to focus on the metal, but everything burned. He screamed out again, only to hear Kurt's chuckle. "Really? I mean, James got it for her when he went to Australia to visit his sister remember? It's her favourite spoon right? You never did get to finish off that icecream tonight, so I put it to good use."  
"What the fuck, what the fuck are you?" Sebastian babbled. Kurt was absolutely fucking nuts. How did he know so much about him? About his family? How long had he been watching them?  
"An old acquaintance with a bone to pick." Kurt answered blankly. "Actually, I guess you could say, a spoon to pick. To pick out your other eyeball."  
And a second later, the same horrifying pain consumed Sebastian, as he felt his vision being torn away from him. The last thing he ever saw was the twisted grin upon Kurt's face as he took his prize. Sebastian's world went dark but the pain didn't end. He screamed louder and louder, hot blood pulsing out of his eye sockets like tears.  
"Oh shut up you'll wake the neighbours." Sebastian heard Kurt utter as he felt the now familiar chilled fire slide down his throat and attack his insides. His screams were now muffled as he choked on what felt like flames. He was being burned alive from the inside out in complete darkness. All his remaining senses were alive and enhancing the pain. He could feel the fire, the last moments of life being pulled away from him. Taste the salt and the cherry on his tongue, the bitter twang of iron as his mouth bled. Smell the dust of drugs that his murderer has left, strong and clear, along with his own blood amd sweat and fear. He could _hear_ Kurt's grin as he watched him die, choking on his own sick joke from years ago. The final words that Sebastian ever heard were from the cruel high voice he'd known from yester years.  
"Look on the brightside; atleast you'll never have to look at my gay face again."  
And then everything Sebastian was experiencing stopped.

* * *

Cady Smythe had fallen asleep somewhere during the early morning hours, the eerie silence of her home rocking her to sleep. She was pretzeled up under her fathers' bed, pressed up against the wall, clutching her stuffed zebra for comfort. She was dreaming of the beach, of icecream sundaes with a healthy older sister and he fathers walking hand in hand with them, no disapproving looks from the public following after. They were all together. They were safe. Cady wished she could have dreamed forever. But it was all over when she was being gentley shaken awake by a dark man in uniform. She jumped awake with a gasp, eyes bloodshot and sore. "She's awake, and she looks unharmed, but terrified." He told another man, also in uniform.  
"Cady, is it?" The dark officer asked softly. Cady managed to nod. She was now lying atop of her fathers' bed, the men must have pulled her from her hiding spot. "Okay, Cady, my name is Sergent Grey and this is Sergent Jonstone," He said pointing to the other man in the room. "We're here to look after you. Something has happened to your daddy, and I need to know if you saw anything." Cady sat up slowly, clutching Charles to her chest.  
"What happened to Daddy..." Cady asked confused.  
Sergent Grey looked over at Sergant Jonstone. He nodded in permission and Grey continued. sure to be careful. "Cady, I'm so sorry, but someone murdered your daddy last night."  
Suddenly, Cady remembered what had happened.  
Suddenly, Cady remembered how utterly alone she was.  
"Cady, do you see anyone who could have been here? You looked like you were hiding when we found you. What were you hiding from."  
"From the vampire. Daddy said he was trying to hurt us, so he made sure I hid." Cady's voice was almost mechanical. Grey looked at Jonstone, puzzled.  
"Are you sure it was a vampire Cady," Jonstone asked from the corner. Cady nodded.  
"It had to be. He was tall, but not as tall as daddy, and he wore all black clothes, and he had really, really white skin. Just like in the old scary movies me and daddy liked to watch. And he hurt daddy's legs, but was very strong, strong enough to drag daddy back and tie him to a chair."  
"I think we've got our character profile," Grey said to Jonstone. "Okay Cady, you need to come with us. We're going to look after you until your Papa comes to get you okay?" Cady nodded slowly. "I'm going to carry you down to the car, and I want you to keep your eyes shut until I tell you to open them okay? Don't open them until we're in my police car." Again, Cady nodded in response and let the Sergent lift her up into his arms. She kept her eyes tightly closed as the she felt Grey carry her down the flights of stairs and out into the cold of the carpark, before tucking her safely into the back seat of his police car. "You can open you eyes now."  
But Cady kept them glued shut. If she opened them, the vision of her family all together might fade away to nothing. In her mind she saw Mollie, healthy and happy, Papa and Daddy, holding hands and smiling, and herself grinning up at all of them. She'd never see them like that again.

* * *

Kurt drove all the way back to Lima. He was in no real rush, but he needed a good night's sleep. He felt full, he felt satisfied. He smiled smugly to himself the entire trip home. He pulled up into the drive, waiting for the automatic doors to open on the garage, not even notcing the missing car in the drive. He locked up, and went inside, running a hot shower before climbing into bed. He supposed Blaine was writing or out for a run, or doing wedding things. All that concerned him at this very moment was rest. He'd completely ignored the scribbled note on the counter from his fiancée.

_Kurt,  
I'm just going away for a few days, I got a call from Erika in New York. She's in the hostpital and it could be pretty serious. You know how she worries, it's probably nothing. Little sisters, always a pain. I'll be home as soon as I can. I love you. _

_Blaine. x_

Kurt was dreaming soundly when little did he realise Blaine's sister wasn't in the hostpital like he'd written. He was unaware that Blaine had booked a flight to L.A the moment he'd realised Kurt had gone, and was now driving a rent-a-car to the address he'd been given by a friend of a friend. Kurt didn't know that Blaine had just pulled up outside of a fairly large house, and was now knocking on the oak door, only to be welcomed by a familiar face.

* * *

**Blaine had gone on a whim to visit Rachel and Charlie while Kurt was away, to explain why they couldn't see each other anymore.  
But when Blaine had gotten there, he couldn't tell them to stay away, even for their own good.  
What Kurt doesn't know won't kill him, Blaine had thought.  
But what he doesn't know might kill them.**

* * *

**AN: We're into the final stages of the story.. There's probably going to be 3 more chapters and a epilogue and then ta-dah! I start college next thursday so im going to be working my ass off just trying to find the time to get this done. but it will get done. i promise.**

**As always, reviews are appreciated! I love them so muuuuuuuch. really inspires me to write. **


	10. Chapter Nine: The Lies

**AN: So I started college and it's damn amazing but I literally have no free time again. s o b. Easter break has freed me up a little so I thought 'fuck it, I'm becoming a hermit and finishing this thing.'**

**and it's done. **

**yayyyyyyyyyy.**

**Also, poorly written smut warning!**

* * *

Finn Hudson had barely slept a total of four hours since he was woken early Sunday morning by work, calling him into an investigation. Sunday's were his day off. He'd stayed out late the evening before, Kurt and Blaine's engagement running late, then drinks with some of the old gang from Glee club. He really wasn't in the mood for it. But if he was being called in on a Sunday it was serious. So he pulled himself out of bed, fixed himself an extra strong espresso, and headed in. Pulling up in his squad car, he never expected there to be a murder scene before him. He never expected to it be Sam Evans' murder scene.

Finn had seen the body. He'd gagged, and shed his tears in private later on. He'd delivered the bad news to the families, to their friends. Blaine had run past the house and he'd had to tell him the truth. He couldn't lie to someone he trusted.

An now he was working himself to death for Sam. So that the bastard who had killed him could be put behind bars. Blaine had suggested that he cross checked within other states for any 'pink glitter murders'. So far nothing. Wednesday slowly ticked over to Thursday as he took another long drain of his coffee mug, when suddenly something caught his eye. A new article posted from the Chicago Times, a news story covered on the third page in print. The online version of the paper was already available and Finn quickly clicked onto the page. _FATHER OF TWO, MYSTERIOUS MURDERED INSIDE OWN HOME. _Finn had read so many murder articles over the last few days it didn't see that out of place. Still, he read on.

_Wednesday morning, the body of a Chicago architect was discovered inside his home apartment. Sebastian Smythe, father of two, was brutally murdered early Wednesday morning, leaving a mystery that police have been unable to solve. Smythe, a local gay rights activist with husband James, was a supported member of the community. The couple's youngest daughter was discovered hiding inside one of the bedrooms of the apartment, away from the horror that was the crime scene. Authorities have released the witness' statement, describing the offender as 'male, roughly 6ft, and very pale, with light brown hair. Coming from money, well-tailored clothing.' The peculiar event was that large quantities of pink glitter were found at the scene, covering the victim and surroundings. Mr Smythe and eldest daughter were out of the state for medical reasons and have released no comment regarding the tragedy. Police state that this is an undergoing investigation and urge any persons who may have information to come forward. _

Finn stared at the screen of his computer for a total of 30 seconds. His mind was trying to get around it. This was it. This was his lead. He rushed away from his desk and pulled out his list of contact numbers, quickly finding the Chicago Police Department. Dialling the number quickly and messily he lifted his phone to his ear and waited for an answer. On the second tone there was a woman who answered on the other line in a thick accent. "Hello, Chicago Police Department, how may I help you?"

"Hi, this is Sergeant Finn Hudson of Lima Police, Ohio," Finn started pacing in his office. "And I have some information regarding the murder of Sebastian Smythe that you may find comes in handy."  
Sebastian Smythe. Finn couldn't help but feel the familiarity of the name roll of his tongue as he spoke to the woman on the other line. "Yes, I don't think this glitter murder is a one off thing."

* * *

Kurt had slept through the rest of Wednesday and was now slowly waking up Thursday morning. The bright, warm light was creeping through the windows, shining fresh on Kurt's face. He grinned as he half leaped from bed, padding lightly to the bathroom where he splashed water on his face and looked at his reflection in the mirror. He opened the cabinet behind the mirror and took out his pill bottle. Shaking out two tiny blue-green capsules, he placed the bottle back inside and closed the door. From the corner of Kurt's eye, he noticed a younger, innocent boy staring back at him with sad crystal eyes. Kurt glared darkly back, throwing back the pills, followed by a shot of water. The boy disappeared like he always did and Kurt smiled to himself.

Kurt wandered downstairs, faintly wondering where Blaine had got to. The clock read 9:32am, definitely too late for him to be running. He'd walked past his office. No sound of frantic fingers on keys. Just silence. Kurt began to make himself a pot of coffee. Their espresso machine sat untouched. Frowning, Kurt noticed the note sitting on the counter. It was from Blaine. Quickly he read over the words. _Bullshit, _Kurt thought. _Bullshit your sister is in the hospital. Why would you lie?_

* * *

At 6:32am, Blaine was waking, slowly and groggily. It took him a moment to place where he was, and why there was an unfamiliar body stirring next to him. He looked over to see Rachel, sliding into a pair of thin boxers and pulling a light cotton t-shirt over her naked chest. Blaine reached his arm to touch her. She shrugged off his touch. "I have to get ready for work Blaine." Rachel said standing to leave the room. Blaine sighed, sitting up in the bed. He'd travelled to L.A only to talk, to say goodbye to Rachel and to Charlie. And he'd ended up reliving the affair that got him into this mess seven years ago. She wasn't even a habit anymore. She was an addiction, and he'd just succumbed to it. Blaine heard the sound of the shower going in the attaching bathroom, and decided that it was his cue to get up too. Shoving back the blankets he stood, searching for his clothing from the previous evening. Pulling on a pair of loose slacks and a button down he ran his fingers through his loose curls and rubbed at his eyes. The water shut off and Rachel appeared, wrapped in a thick white towel, her hair wet and dripping.  
"Blaine, go down and eat some breakfast with Charlie. I need to get ready." Rachel's voice was quiet, almost ashamed. Blaine nodded and did as she asked.

As soon as Rachel saw the door of her bedroom close she fell to her knees, breaking down completely. She was so stupid. She let Blaine into her home, into her bed. He promised this was going to be the last she heard of him. He'd warned her, that Kurt could never find out about anything. But he'd held her, loved her, just like the old days of college where she was carefree and childish. Everything was different now. And that old spark had just made things even more complicated.

* * *

It took Kurt 25 minutes on Blaine's office computer to discover where he'd really gone.  
Credit card trails, phone calls, booked flights. Really, Blaine knew better than to leave those lying around.  
He'd booked a flight to Los Angeles. Kurt wasn't completely sure what that meant.  
A number, something unfamiliar. Kurt quickly pulled out his cell and dialled. It rang straight to voice mail. "_Hi, you've tried to reach Frances Young, Talent Agent. Sorry, I'm not available right now, so leave your name and number and I'll get back to you." _He slammed his thumb over the 'end call' button._  
"_Frances Young, we meet again," Kurt said angrily. Blaine must have gone to meet Rachel. And Rachel's agent had told him where to go. So he'd fled. For what though? Kurt wasn't sure.  
And it made him even angrier.

* * *

Rachel appeared downstairs just after 7 to find Blaine fixing Charlie banana pancakes for breakfast. Charlie was giggling sweetly and something Blaine was saying, both of them having the biggest, identical grins on their faces. It was crazy how alike the two were. Charlie had always been such a constant reminder of Blaine, every time she looked into her young face. Rachel watched from the kitchen hallway as they ate their breakfasts, a small pile of pancakes set aside for her too. She recollected her thoughts and strode into the kitchen the best fake smile she could muster plastered on her face.

"Hey guys, what's going on?" she asked brightly. Charlie's face was covered in syrup and she grinned up at her mother.

"Blaine made us all pancakes Mommy! They're so good!" Rachel grabbed a napkin off the counter and came to wipe the mess off Charlie's cheeks.

"Well, I'm glad you like them sweetie. Do I get any of these delicious sounding pancakes then?"

"There's a plate on the counter for you Rach," Blaine said, chewing his own slowly. Rachel dodged his gaze and muttered a word of thanks.

Rachel sat down with them all and began to eat. Blaine and Charlie began chatting about something random and childish and Rachel watched as the two simply clicked; an effortless relationship. Rachel smiled at them, her eyes sad. Blaine would have made an excellent father.

* * *

Finn had taken the first flight he could to Chicago. His late night conversation had proved worthwhile, and after a quick nap on the plane, he was ready to get back to work. Finn had met with the Police Chief in Chicago, been given the run down on the Smythe murder. Finn had insisted on visiting the crime scene for himself, and had been escorted there in a dark sedan. Stepping outside of the apartment building, he followed officers up the flights of stairs and to the floor where the apartment was. Finn braced himself for what he found inside.

Stepping inside the room was like stepping into a slaughterhouse. The white carpets were soaked red, heavier in some areas than others. Finn flinched slightly, being a small town cop; he never saw many crime scenes like this. He wasn't exactly accustomed to it yet. Areas were taped off by the yellow police tape, and the chair where the body had been found was perfectly in place just as it has been. Only the body had been moved.

"Sergeant Hudson," A burly dark skinned man spoke from the other side of the room. "I'm Sergeant Grey," he stepped carefully around the tape and held out a strong hand for Finn to shake.

"Grey," Finn answered with a nod of respect. "So this is it, huh."

"Yup, this is what we've got. We've had forensics in for prints and other DNA sources, and so far they've come up with nothing. The place has been wiped clean. The security tapes are blank too. This guy knew what he was doing."

Finn strolled around the apartment, careful not trip over anything. "And you're thinking the motive is…?"

"We believe that this was revenge or something along those lines. It was well thought out, and the victim was obviously tortured. We've spoken to the husband and friends, and the victim had no known enemies."

Finn's eyes glanced over the walls. Photo frames of the family were scattered around. Two young girls at the beach, the same girls with their fathers at the park. Two men on their wedding day. A little girl in a hospital bed with a younger girl snuggled next to her. A group of boys in matching uniforms holding a large golden trophy, the banner reading '2011 NORTH-WESTERN OHIO SHOW CHOIR SECTIONALS' above their heads. Finn scanned the faces. Each oddly familiar. The blazers. The smiles. His eyes landed on the younger face of the man who had been murdered just days ago. Sebastian Smythe. A Warbler. Now he remembered.

"Sergeant Hudson?" Grey stood questioning his distant gaze. Finn snapped back to attention.

"Grey, I want your forensic team to run prints on this photo frame," Finn said pointing out the Warblers. "I want to know about it the second the results are available.

* * *

Kurt tried the number of Frances Young for another time. Finally, he got an answer.  
"Hello, Frances Young, Talent Agent, speaking. How may I help you?" The slightly familiar voice of the woman replied.  
"Hi, my name is Mike Chang, I'm an old friend of Rachel Berry's from high school. I run a very successful dance school called The Change Dance Force with my wife here is Ohio. Rachel and I were very close in high school and I was wondering if you would be able to give me her contact details? I'd like to get in touch and perhaps meet with her to discuss a possible meet with some of my students interested in going into the business professionally. And also I'd like to catch up for old time's sake."

"Hi, Mr Chang. Rachel has told me about you! I'm sure she'd love that. If you could just grab a pen and I'll tell you her details and you can talk to her about a meeting. Rachel has a soft spot for little dancer's, as her daughter is a little talent in herself."

"Oh she had a daughter? I haven't seen her in so long, I would have never have guessed? How old is she?"

"Turning seven in a few months. Cutest little angel she is. Sweet little chocolate curls and bright hazel eyes. You'll have to meet her Mike, she's gorgeous."

Kurt smiled to himself. "Oh, I'd kill to meet her."

**Frances Young may have been able to be trusted with a secret such as Charlie, but as soon as the chance to gossip to an 'old friend' of Rachel's arrived, she jumped at it.  
She could hold her tongue when she had to.  
But sometimes it nearly killed her.**

* * *

Blaine had driven Charlie to school that morning, leaving Rachel with a free hour or two to get clear her head. She packed away the mess of the kitchen, Blaine's cooking adventures scattered across the counters. She made Charlie's bed, and vacuumed the living room. She didn't hear the door close over the hum of the machine. Wordlessly she worked, head spinning with thoughts about Blaine, about Charlie, about her work. Apparently it was dangerous to go back to Ohio. Blaine wouldn't tell her why. Just that it was. She fumed as she attacked the expensive carpet with the sucking nozzle, when she felt a hand grab at her shoulders. Letting out a shriek of surprise she whipped around, swinging the vacuum as a weapon against the intruder. Blaine stood before her now, a look of confusion on his face and a red mark forming on his left cheek. "Ouch," he mustered sarcastically.

Rachel sighed frustrated, bending to switch off the machine. "So why are you back here? I thought you were leaving after you dropped Charlie off."

"I needed to see you one last time Rachel." Blaine's eyes were torn as he looked across at her. "I'm so sorry. I really am. I still don't think you get it. I've put you and Charlie in so much danger and you don't even realise it. I seriously cannot press enough how important it is that you don't come back to Ohio, and that you don't try to contact me again. I'm sorry I put you through so much Rach. I'm sorry I left you alone. I'm sorry I used you. I'm sorry about last night. I'm sorry I wasn't there for either of you, and I'm so sorry I can't start to be now. I just wanted to make that clear." Blaine stood awkwardly, his eyes glassy. Rachel didn't realise she'd been crying until she tried to speak. A moment later he turned to leave.

"Thank you Blaine." She sniffed.

"For what?" he asked turning back to her.

"For everything you just apologised for."

In that moment Rachel wished with all her heart that Blaine would run over to her, capture her in his arms and hold her and kiss her, and make all the bad things he'd mentioned small and far away. She wished they could live together, just her, him and their daughter, in the country maybe, away from the cameras and the fame. Away from the rush of life. Somewhere calm, peaceful. Forgiving.

But Blaine turned, gazing one last time at the tiny brunette, and walked away. She listened as she heard the heavy jam of the front door, and the engine of his cheap rented car's start and pull out of the drive. She listened as Blaine walked out of her life forever.

* * *

Blaine arrived back late from flight home. He'd parked his car in the lot of at the airport. As he recovered his keys from his things and loaded his bags into the trunk, he was too tired to notice the pale blue pickup truck parked a few spaces down. Finn Hudson's truck sat unnoticed as Blaine drove away, heading back to Lima as quickly as he could.

* * *

Kurt had had the entire day to muse over the new lot of information that darling Frances had given him. A kid, huh. That must have been the little girl that Kurt had seen with Rachel at the engagement last week. But who was the father? Seven in a few months… Seven or so years ago they were in College – Junior Year. No, it couldn't be.

It couldn't have been Blaine's kid, could it?

The realisation of it all dawned on him. "You fucking little whore!" Kurt screamed to the silence of the house. The reason Rachel had run all those years ago, finally made sense. She was fucking pregnant with Blaine's fuck child.

"How fucking dare you." He said to air. "You are fucking _mine_."

* * *

Blaine arrived home to a dark house. At first, he'd thought that Kurt was asleep. He wasn't expecting him back anyway, so Blaine wasn't fussed. He quietly slipped inside, completely knackered, rolling his suitcase carefully behind him.

"Welcome home Blaine." A voice chimed from the darkness. The voice was lower than usual. It sent a nervous shiver down Blaine's spine.

"Kurt?" Blaine asked flicking the hall light on. The light buzzed, slowly illuminating the hall in an artificial glow. Kurt sat on a chair at the end of the hall, back straight and tall, legs crossed. His posture perfect, his clothes dark and elegant. Blaine stiffened. He was wearing his hunting clothes.

"Honey, you really should be in bed, it's late," Blaine started, taking a cautious step toward him. Kurt's eyes glared up dangerously at him, Blaine stopping instantly.

"Oh I'm aware of the hour. I just missed you something _terrible_." Blaine swallowed. "I wanted to welcome you home special."

Kurt stood, and strode over to his startled fiancée. Tugging him by the hand, Kurt led him back to the chair at the end of the hall, pushing him a little too forcefully down on the wood. Kurt took Blaine's worried face in his hands, kissing his lips precisely. Blaine saw the dark lust in Kurt's eyes as he glared down from his position of power, slowly bending to his knees before Blaine. Kurt's slender fingers traced over his chest, down to his belt buckle. Blaine shivered once again, not from nerves, but from his fiancée's touch, Kurt coming to palm over the front of his pants.

"Kurt this really isn't necessary," Blaine protested as Kurt continued to unfasten his belt and undo his pants. Kurt lowered his mouth to kiss over the exposed skin. "Kurt-"

"No underwear Blaine, you're practically begging for it," Kurt purred darkly against his skin. Blaine felt the twitch of his hardening cock as Kurt tried to shimmy him out of his pants.

"Kurt, baby, it's okay, I'd really be happy with a snuggle and a shower," Blaine tried as he felt Kurt's hand take him, squeezing gently.

"Blaine, it's fine, I really don't mind," Blaine's head fell back with a moan as Kurt began to pump his cock. "See, you love it Blaine, being under my control."

Blaine was lost in the feeling of Kurt around him, Kurt's lips and tongue now kissing and licking over him. "Fuck," Blaine muttered as he looked down to watch as Kurt took all of him between his lips, crystal eyes glaring up at him. Blaine watched as Kurt bobbed, inhaling each time he felt his cock brush against the back of Kurt's throat. Blaine's fists clenched and he squeezed his eyes shut, letting Kurt bring him this guilty pleasure. Kurt began to quicken his pace, tongue sliding over Blaine hotly, causing Blaine to let out another moan. "Fuck, Kurt, stop, stop!" Blaine cried abruptly.

A wet smack of lips and salvia sounded as Kurt surfaced. "What Blaine. Aren't I good enough for you anymore?"

Blaine looked down at him, breathing slightly heavier than normal. "No, why would you say that?"

"I think you'd rather bury you cock in some filthy slut's pussy."

"Kurt, what the fuck are you saying-"

Kurt snarled, Blaine's eyes widening in frightful surprise. Kurt's hands traced over skin and clothing, innocently. "Maybe if I'm not good enough for you I should just put my mouth to good use," Kurt's fingers came back to wrap around Blaine's exposed member, still wet from Kurt's lips, "and bite this fucking thing off," Kurt's hand squeezed tightly, tugging forcefully, causing Blaine a yelp of pain. Kurt didn't let go until the begging words escaped Blaine's lips.

"Good. Now shut the fuck up, while I suck your dick." Blaine whimpered quietly as Kurt went back to his job, slamming his throat roughly against Blaine, until Blaine couldn't take it anymore and succumbed, coming shakily. Kurt slid up from the floor, his nose brushing over Blaine's sweaty curly and skin. He kissed Blaine harshly, the taste of himself always odd against his lips.

"Good boy," Kurt said sweeping the hair off of Blaine's face. "Now if I ever find out that you have even thought about Rachel Berry or that bastard kid of yours, I really will bite it off, so you can never fuck that whore again."

Blaine nodded, tears threatening to leak from his eyes as Kurt kissed him one last time, biting down on his bottom lip a little too fiercely, before standing and disappearing into the dark house.

An hour or so later, Blaine was asleep in their bed, no sign of worry on his resting face. Kurt lay awake in the darkness, watching as the first rays of light began to brighten the horizon, lightening blue light filtering through the curtains. Kurt smiled as he rose from the bed, a new plan forming in his mind.

Kurt Hummel reached for his phone, dialling a number he'd committed to memory a few nights ago. After a few rings a groggy, disorientated voice answered. "Hello?"  
Kurt breathed calmly into the phone. The voice on the other end began to sound annoyed. "Hello, who is this? Do you have any idea what time this is? Or even who you're calling?"

Kurt answered her question almost instantly. "I know who you are, Rachel Berry. I also would place a bet that you can't figure out who I am. Even though we know each other quite well." The woman on the other end of the phone was scared silent. Kurt smiled. "I just wanted to tell you this. I know who the baby daddy is of the kid you're hiding, you filthy fucking_ whore_. And I'm not entirely sure who I'm going to kill first. You, him... the girl? I'll get back to you." Kurt hung up.

Gathering the things he needed, dressing quickly, he placed a chaste kiss on Blaine's sleeping forehead before slipping out of the door. Passing his reflection in the hallway mirror he caught the image of the saddened young boy with the crystal eyes following him. He ignored it; half tempted to throw the umbrella stand into the glass. But he didn't. And then he slipped out the door silently and was gone.

* * *

Finn Hudson was pacing the Police Headquarters in Chicago, Styrofoam coffee cup in hand, filled with the bitter liquid. The prints were due make any minute now, and then Finn would know for sure.

He'd already got the set he needed to cross reference with. Taken from the old photo of their family that he'd given Finn, the same one that he kept in his wallet at all times.

If Finn was correct in his assumption… He didn't know what he was going to do just yet.

"Sergeant Hudson?" A kind voiced black woman said from the hallway. Finn looked up, expectantly. "The lab results are back."

"Thank you ma'am." Finn took the envelope away from her, laid out the set he'd required already, before taking a deep breath and tearing open the seal. He laid out the new set of finger prints against the current set in front of him. He glared. Comparing the two. The same swirl on the thumbs, the weird little scratch on the tip. He checked again. And doubled checked again. He kept checking until he was sure he couldn't deny it any further.

Finn kicked over the chair the he was neglecting, swearing loudly. He wiped the mist from his eyes and took a minute to calm down.

**The finger prints belonged to Kurt Hummel.  
Sergeant Finn Hudson had just found the evidence he needed to catch a killer.  
But when the killer is your own brother, what do you?  
Do you condemn, or be** **damned?**

* * *

**AN: The last line is a Les Mis reference and idgaf because the reason I have no free time is because of that effin musical.**

**sighhh don't you love it when porn is an important plot point? that's why i love wicked so much. **


	11. Chapter Ten: The Beginnings

**AN: First starts as a flash back to when they're in college/NYC. Then back to present time. Filling in some gaps dawg**

* * *

Kurt Hummel had never been so excited about anything in his life. He was moving. Leaving the small town he'd grown up in for the big city, to freedom. He was going to study fashion design, not theatre like he wanted, but it was still something he loved. Rachel had been accepted into NYADA, much to his jealously, but at least he was going to New York City. He was still going to be with his best friend. They were going to be living together, and in a year when Blaine graduated he was coming too. They were grownups now. Ready for their grownup lives and responsibilities. Rachel was just as excited as he was, finally ditching Finn over the summer and ready to be single and fabulous in NYC. Kurt was still devoted to Blaine, so he didn't mind being alone for a year. Blaine was his, and was all he needed.

The year passed, quite uneventfully. A few hissy fits here and there. A few moments when Kurt had to restrain himself from smacking the breath out of the tiny diva once and for all. But he'd survived. And Blaine was coming to New York. His Blaine was coming to be with him again.

When fall of 2013 came around, there were three struggling students living in the apartment, all attending different colleges, all still seemingly innocent in the world of the big city. Blaine at NYU, Kurt at Tisch, Rachel at NYADA. They barely survived at times, rent, food, life, and school. All of them were stretched too thin. Kurt needed to find something to help him relax.

Blaine had his running. Every morning he'd be up before class, running for miles, coming home sweaty and smiling. Rachel had her silly little animal shelter where she volunteered in her free hours. Kurt had nothing.

It was late one night, during the winter of their first year all together, when Kurt was out roaming the city. He'd ridden the subway to some unexplored corner, and was simply walking, listening to the buzz of the traffic and watching his breath before him. Blaine was working late at his part-time job as a waiter. Rachel was at a rehearsal. So Kurt was alone, and he'd decided to go on an adventure.

His shoes clicked against the icy pavement, walking tall and poised as he made his way through the strangely empty streets. Occasionally he'd pick up on something moving behind him, but he never drew attention to it. It was usually nothing.

But tonight it wasn't.

Kurt continued walking, his powerful stride quickening as he sensed something stalking him. The second he heard the swing of a weapon being raised above his head he'd attacked.

Slipping out of the way of the heavy metal bat, he watched as the startled man wielding it stumbled, the great metal spike attached to the tip lodging itself between the cracks in the pavement. Kurt grinned as he raised his leg, drop kicking the man on the head. The man had been startled and he tried to regain his balance, but couldn't, Kurt side kicking him, forcing him to the ground. Kurt could have left it there, could have walked away. But he didn't. Because this was too much fun.

He pulled he bat out of the ground, swinging it, the spike impacting the injured man, slicing through his skull in one graceful hit, killing him for sure. Ripping it out of the dead man's body, he tossed it around in his fingers, chuckling to himself. "What a silly weapon," he muttered, tossing it carelessly into a dumpster in the alley opposite. He considered leaving the poor bastard where he lay on the ice, but decided against it. Lifting the limp body carefully, he tossed him into the dumpster too, making sure not get any mess one his clothing. Brushing imaginary dirt off of his gloved hands, he sensed another being behind him. His fingers twitched for the sai that he kept under his clothing whenever he was out, and as he heard the first footstep he reached for them. As Kurt turned, deadly quick and agile, his wrists flicked and released the two sai into the chest of the second assailant. This man was shorter, his face quickly growing pale as he fell backward onto the cement. "Jesus fucking Christ, can't I take a walk at night without having to get dirty?" Kurt asked no one in particular. Kurt stepped forward and saw the man he'd just attacked breathing shallowly on the ground. He reached down and pulled a bloody sai out of his chest. The man coughed, blood spitting up onto his jacket. "Gross," Kurt said, reaching down and slitting the man's throat without a second thought. Sighing, he removed his other sai and lifted the dead man, tossing him into the dumpster with the other. With Kurt's back turned he heard more footsteps. "Oh, for fucksake," Kurt said turning swiftly, sai out. "I'd appreciate it if you stopped forcing me to kill you guys. It was cute at first but now I really just want to finish my walk and go home." Kurt stood facing a taller man, with dark hair and eyes, and a devilish smile upon his lips. He was well built and had a light dusting of scruff, causing Kurt's belly to twist. He was _very_ attractive.

"Well I'd appreciate it if you'd stop killing my friends, so how about we call a truce?" The man chuckled holding out a gloved hand for Kurt to shake. He took it hesitantly. "My name's Damien."

"Kurt." Damien smiled.

"Well Kurt, I'd like to offer you my congratulations. You just defeated two of my strongest players. Well done." Kurt tilted his head slightly, confused.

"Players?"

"You see my friends and me run this little club. It's top secret and if I tell you, I may have to kill you." Damien's eyes flickered teasingly. Kurt smiled.

"I think I'd be able to handle myself if that were the case."

"That's what I like to hear!" Damien laughed into the open air. He placed an arm around Kurt's shoulder, feeling himself relaxing into the touch, Kurt let himself be controlled and directed down the alley by Damien.  
"Now this little club of mine, it has a few rules. You don't tell anyone about it. You don't rat anyone out from it. Everyone in it is each other's friends. In a way, we're blood brothers here."

Kurt listened as Damien prattled on about his little club, leading Kurt through back entrances and doorways, down alleys and through cracks. Kurt made a mental note as to where they were going. Finally, Damien and Kurt came through to a large open spaced room. Inside was weapons and training equipment of all different sorts. Men and women were sparing, wrestling, boxing, playing with dangerous things of all kinds. Kurt looked around eyes wide with delight, like a small child on Christmas. He broke out into a grin and looked up at Damien. "So Kurt, what do you think?"

"You haven't told me exactly what your purpose is yet."

Damien let go of Kurt's shoulders, striding over to the target area. The few people that were in the training facility stopped and watched as Damien lined up with the target; a stuffed human dummy on the other end of the room. He looked over and smiled broadly at Kurt, before whipping out two pistols from under his coat in a split second, and firing at the dummy across the room. In the second it had taken Damien to shoot, his face had changed from light hearted to serious. Smoke wafted from the ends of the silver pistols, Damien quickly stowing them back under his coat. He beckoned Kurt to come over to him. Hurrying over, Kurt saw what Damien had done. Across the room, the dummy stood just as it were before, only now there were two perfect bullet holes right where the eyes were supposed to be. Kurt shivered with a smile. Damien was attractive. _And dangerous_.

"Kurt," Damien began, drawing back his attention. "This is where my friends come to learn to kill."

* * *

Ever since that first meeting, Kurt met every Wednesday night with Damien and his new 'friends'. Quickly, Kurt learnt the skills, had the training, to be truly dangerous. It excited him. He wanted to use his new abilities. He wanted to maim, to tear, to torture. His grades began to slip in school, his mind forever consumed with the need of it. Sure, he had his kill here and there with his friends, but it was always over too quickly. He was always retrained. He wanted more.

It was one evening at the beginning of his junior year when Blaine sat him down to talk. "Kurt," he'd begun. Kurt was already rolling his eyes internally. "We need to talk about school."

"What about it Blaine?" Kurt answered innocently.

"I really, really don't want a repeat of last year Kurt. I don't want you to almost flunk out again. I'm concerned, baby. I want you to succeed in this. I know it's hard sometimes but please, for me? For yourself?" Blaine rubbed his thumb against the back of Kurt's hand. Kurt simply looked down at it in disgust.

"How dare you try telling me how to live my life Blaine!" Kurt had erupted, suddenly shouting violently and standing over the younger man. "How fucking dare you! I don't need a fucking lecture, I know what I'm doing. I don't care what you think of me, I'm doing what_ I_ want. If _I_ want to flunk out, I'll flunk out. Fuck you for trying to stop me!" Blaine was cowering on the sofa, watching as Kurt completely flipped before him. This was so unlike Kurt, and Blaine was terrified. It excited Kurt to see him so afraid. "You think you're so much better than me with your double major and you're fancy little job and all this fucking shit your parents just _give_ you. Learn how to survive without them, learn how to live your _own _life, and stop fucking whining about mine." Kurt spat his words in Blaine's face, before striking him across his cheek. Blaine was silent, tears in his hazel eyes and clutching his bruising cheek with shaking hands. "Fuck you." Kurt said, grabbing his coat and storming out.

He shrugged the coat on in the hallway, running into Rachel on her way home from school, clutching a bag of groceries. "Hey Kurt what's wrong-" she started as he pushed past her, almost sending the bag flying.

"Get out of my way," he said as he left without another word.

Rachel watched mouth agape as Kurt stormed down the hall and down the stairs. Rachel rushed back into the apartment to find Blaine on the sofa, curled into a foetal position and sobbing. Rachel spied the mark on his cheek, already blackening up into a nasty bruise. "Blaine, oh my god," Rachel threw down the bag and ran to him, pulling the boy into his arms and cradling him as he cried. She tried numerous times to get what happened out of him, but instead chose to wait until he'd calmed down a little.

"I went to talk to him about his school," Blaine managed eventually, sniffing loudly. "He just… exploded. He started swearing and yelling and t-then he hit me." Blaine's voice was small.

Rachel kissed the bruise on his cheek. "Blaine, honey, it'll be okay. I'll talk to him when he gets back, alright?" Blaine sat bolt upright.

"No Rachel, just leave it. I don't want him hurting you either. Please, just leave it." Blaine pleaded with his friend. She looked and him with nothing but concern but nodded.

"Okay Blainers, I'll leave it for now. Let me get you some ice for that."

* * *

Things continued like nothing had ever happened. Blaine never mentioned that particular incident to Kurt again, but went on living in constant fear that Kurt may lash out again. Despite what Kurt had said to Blaine, he picked up in his studies. But he was out much more frequently, with friends, murdering, slicing, destroying. It got to the point where Kurt was out all night, every night, simply running on caffeine and adrenaline.

One night, Kurt had come home earlier than expected; Damien had ordered them to split earlier than usual. Kurt's movements were always silent now, and he slipped into the apartment as if he were a ghost. Placing his bag down, sliding off his coat, hanging up his keys, he noticed that the main living space was oddly empty. It was only 9:30pm, and both Rachel and Blaine were supposed to be home. Kurt was suspicious of what was going on. He listened keenly. There was a murmur of groans a soft bump, the slight squeak of bed springs. Kurt moved swiftly, across the room and down the hall, the sounds only becoming clearer. Standing with his ear to Rachel's bedroom door, he heard the mixed pants of their breathing. Twisting the knob and opening the old door as quietly as possible, he spied at them through the mirror facing the door way. Rachel. Naked and sweating and moaning under Blaine_. His Blaine_. Blaine was grinding his hips into her, fucking her into the mattress. A memory from some years ago, a drunk kiss at a party. To a younger Kurt that was the end of the world, and they hadn't even been together then. What was this to him?

From somewhere inside his mind he heard a voice, sobbing. _Shut it, that is unattractive,_ he thought, trying to silence to noise.

A small voice replied apologetically. _Sorry._

Closing the door carefully, Kurt traced his steps back out of the apartment, without his coat, barely remembering his keys. He fled to the streets, hailing a cab, and telling the Hispanic driver to just go. They swerved through the traffic, through the busy streets of New York. Without a particular destination. With a heavy accent the driver tried to tell Kurt he needed to tell him where he was headed. Kurt just slit his throat.

Kurt knew exactly where he was headed. 6 months ago, Blaine's parents had moved to a suburb just outside New York City, claiming they were tired of Ohio life and needed a change. The advantage of being close to Blaine was there. Also their daughter Erika was a promising young dancer and needed better training. Erika would catch the train into the city each morning and return home late at night. Blaine's eldest brother Cooper lived in Los Angeles, and would often come home for a visit.

Kurt certainly wished he was there.

He'd swapped the body of the cab driver to the backseat, taking the wheel and driving put of the city. Half an hour out of the traffic later, he pulled up outside of the Anderson house. An elegant wooden structure, two stories and not equipped with a high tech sprinkler system.

It took forty minutes for the house to go completely up in smoke, three Anderson's dead, and Kurt safely back within the city.

Kurt arrived back at the apartment late, to a distraught Blaine sitting empty on the couch. Rachel was pouring him a stiff drink, something Kurt had bought a few weeks ago.

"What's wrong Blaine?" Kurt asked, faking concern. He knew exactly what was wrong.

"There was a house fire…" Rachel began.

"My family is dead. Everyone except Erika." Blaine said simply. Sliding the strong liquid Rachel handed him down his gullet. "Fuck."

_I'm surprised you guys stopped doing just that long enough to get the call,_ Kurt thought, as his face became completely shocked, moving to comfort his boyfriend. Blaine sobbed into Kurt's shoulder, Kurt nuzzling into him.

Rachel stood around awkwardly, downing the contents of her glass in one go.

* * *

Barely three weeks later, Rachel was gone.

No note, no explanation.

Just a shadow passing in the night.

Blaine had been fucking miserable since the fire, but Rachel's disappearance only worsened things.

* * *

A few years had passed and Blaine was in his final year semester of college. Kurt had graduated the previous year, now working part time doing costumes for various Off-Broadway productions.

"Kurt," Blaine said one night, skimming through various blogs on his laptop. "Guess what they're turning into a film."

"The story of that woman who got her face bitten off by the monkey?" Kurt answered back, only half joking. Honestly he thought that would make an exceptional movie.

"No… a movie version of Wicked. You'll never guess who's playing Elphaba." Blaine teased looking over at Kurt from behind his computer.

"If its Miley Cyrus, I'm going to cut that bitch," Kurt threatened. Blaine let out a laugh.

"No, seriously. Guess."

"Sutton Foster. She plays everyone." Blaine shook his head, smiling. Kurt rolled his eyes. "Who then?"

"Rachel Berry."

* * *

The night before Blaine's final exam, Kurt was out with friends. Doing what he did best.

That night had been particularly messy. They'd found a couple making out under an overpass, and they'd put up a bit of a fight. There even was gunfire, and he'd been stupid enough to have gotten in the way. But no one ever survived once they'd run into them.  
Blood stained his clothing. He'd have to burn them later.

He arrived back late, stinking of sweat and blood and gun powder, and had just flopped back on the sofa, closing his eyes for only a moment. His arm was arm fucking aching, his friend's had done their best at cleaning him up. He ignored the sounds of footsteps coming into the living room. He'd only stirred at the sound of Blaine's gasp.

"Holy shit Kurt, what the fuck happened?" Blaine exclaimed coming to sit next to him and nurse his boyfriend. "Did you get mugged? Baby, are you hurt?" Blaine reached out to touch him but Kurt leapt out of his way, startling the younger boy.

"Don't, don't touch me." Kurt was hurrying out of his clothing, his coat, shirt and pants. Blaine watched confused as he gathered them in a metal tub they kept under the sink. Kurt poured a little motor oil from the top cupboard over them, before striking a match and letting them burn.

"What the fuck are you doing!" shouted Blaine, rushing to grab the fire extinguisher from its place on the wall. Kurt sharply grabbed his wrist as he moved to try put out the flames.

"I said don't." Kurt's voice was firm, scaring Blaine in the slightest. He let his hand drop, stepping back and watching was the clothing burned. Standing only in his underwear in their kitchen, Kurt still seemed powerful, capable of hurting Blaine if he wanted to. Eventually, the fire died out, Kurt, washing the ashes down the sink and placing the tub and oil back away.

"Do you want to tell me what the fuck is going on?" Blaine asked, faking bravely. Kurt smiled down at his hands, still stained with innocent blood.

"Look at your wrist Blaine." Gazing down at the exposed skin, Blaine could tell the bruise from Kurt's grip was already forming. It didn't seem to have hurt enough to leave a mark… But the red streaks of his honey skin… Blood? Oh god. The blood was neither Kurt nor Blaine's.

"Kurt…"

"I'm going to tell you what I've been doing in my free time for the last three years. After I tell you, you have two options. You can run and I may be forced to come and hunt you down. Or you can stay with me, just like you always have. And we can love each other just like we always have. You can even join in Blaine. _It's so very much fun."_

Blaine swallowed, moving to sit on the sofa. "Okay." He said, barely audible. "Tell me then."

* * *

**So Kurt had.  
And that was the beginning.  
The beginning of the partnership, the relationship without the lying or the sneaking around.  
Kurt and Blaine, the serial killers next door.  
They ended up moving away from New York City, travelling around, killing as they went, loving as they goed.  
It wasn't until now that Blaine realised that accepting Kurt like this was the biggest regret of his life.**

* * *

Blaine woke up to find the right side of the bed cold. Kurt was gone. Quickly sliding out of bed, he did a hurried search of the house. No Kurt. He was gone.

A sudden frantic knock sounded at the door, causing Blaine to jump. The tapping persisted and Blaine rushed to answer it. Finn stood in on the porch, quickly pushing his way through, heading straight to the living room, before spinning, unsure where to begin. Closing the front door, Blaine moved towards where Finn was pacing.

"Blaine, I need you to show me where Kurt's office is, or any little secret, private rooms he had." Finn's voice was breathless.

"Sure, uhh, his office is this way," Blaine said leading Finn towards the door leading off from the kitchen. Finn rushed passed him, jiggling the doorknob roughly.

"It's locked!" Finn muttered, frustrated.

"Kurt's the only one with a key…" Blaine started, but Finn's foot had already impacted the door, bursting it open. "Whoa, that was really cool man," Blaine said impressed.

"Thanks, it's like the first thing they teach at the Police Academy," Finn said as he began raiding through Kurt's drawers and designs. "Jesus, where could it be?"

"Finn, what are you looking for?" Blaine asked, leaning against the doorway. Finn stopped looking for a moment.

"Blaine… I don't know how to tell you this."

"Just say it Finn."

Finn took a deep breath. "We have a very strong reason to believe that Kurt murdered Sam Evans, and also Sebastian Smythe in Chicago. His prints were found at the scene in Chicago, and both victims were covered in pink glitter."

Blaine stared. Kurt. He really had knocked off Sam. And Sebastian? They hadn't spoken since high school. And so many months before, Jeremiah. None of them had ever been a serious threat to their relationship. The only person who ever had was Rachel. Because of Charlie. And somehow, Kurt had figured it out. And now he was missing. "Fuck."

"Blaine, I need your help. Seriously, if you have any information that could help me, I desperately need it. I know it's hard, he's my brother. He's your fiancée. But please. Blaine, please."

Blaine hesitated. "Finn, I can tell you absolutely everything if you can give me something."

"Anything Blaine," Finn's eyes were pleading.

"I need full immunity. I can't go to prison, or even be charged. This stays between us. To help solve the case."

"If that's what you need, consider it done."

"Check his computer," Blaine started, distracting Finn. Finn turned, shifting the mouse, the huge screen soon ticking awake. Facebook was still open from the beginning of the week.

And the profile of Sebastian Smythe was still at large.

"Blaine, what the fuck," Finn began but Blaine held up his hand to silence him.

"Finn, Kurt did murder those people. And this isn't the first time. He's killed so many others; he's forced me to help. He killed Jeremiah Wilson back all those months ago; I hid the body to make it seem like an accident. Save your words and judgement for later, because I know who he's going after next, and if you have any respect for the girl you once loved you get on a fucking plane with me right now and fly to L.A to try save some fucking lives."

Blaine had made up his mind. He was no longer concerned about Kurt. This was too far. Blaine was going to do whatever it took to protect his daughter. This game had gone long enough.

* * *

The first thing Kurt had done when he touched down in Los Angeles, California was pay dear old Frances Young a quick visit.

It was a _very_ quick visit.

Now the dial tone began to ring as he waited for someone to pick up the other end, while dodging lazily through highway traffic.

"Hello, Rachel Berry speaking?" came the sweet voice on the other end.

"Hey, Rach, it's Kurt!" he began as casual as possible. "Listen, I know we didn't get to talk too much last week, and I think we've got a lot to talk about. How about we meet for coffee? I'm in town on business and I've got a few free hours…"

Kurt heard Rachel hesitate nervously. Kurt grinned wickedly. "Umm, sure, sounds great. Where do you want to meet?"

"I could always just come over? I think that'd be easiest, don't want any paparazzi on your ass, hah."

"…Sure. I'll just text you my address on this number?"

"No need, I spoke to Frances. She passed along the info. See you soon, hon!" Kurt said far too sickly-sweet too be normal, hanging up harshly.

_See you very soon Rachel Berry._


	12. Chapter Eleven: The Last

**AN: Final chapter. squeeeeeeee. Jumps back and forth so please try and keep up brothas**

* * *

Finn had missed Kurt at the airport by mere minutes.

Kurt's flight to L.A boarded exactly 4 and a half minutes before Finn entered the terminal. He'd rushed so much to get out of the parking lot and onto the highway back to Lima that he'd failed to notice his step brother waving at him with a taunting smile upon his lips from the small aeroplane window as he hurried away.

Two hours later, Blaine and Finn were back at the same terminal, booking flights to Kurt's destination, while Kurt soared over fields sipping champagne charged to Blaine's credit card.

* * *

"Three more fucking hours?" Finn swore at the lady in the ticket booth. "Are you kidding me? We need to be in L.A as soon as possible."

The woman looked at him sternly. "Well, I'm very sorry sir, but as soon as possible just so happens to be in three more hours."

Finn swore again, Blaine pushing in front of him. "I apologise for my brother-in-law: two seats on the next flight to L.A please."

The next flight to L.A was delayed by 45 minutes. Blaine and Finn were becoming much too anxious to be normal. Finally they were seated and the plane was taking off.

* * *

Across the country Kurt arrived at the home of Frances Young. The petite woman welcomed him inside, and as soon as the door was closed, Kurt attacked. Reaching out with his left hand, he squeezed her jaw open, her cry of surprise gagging in her throat. A moment later Kurt had taken one of his old sai, and with a wet _shlick, _the woman's tongue was in Kurt's fist. Blood flowed freely, filling he mouth, causing her to splutter. Shoving the detached muscle into her palm, Kurt pushed her to the ground. Leaning over her he, he whispered just loud enough for her to hear.

"This should teach you when to hold your tongue." A flick of his sai, her throat was cut, body limp and bloody. "But thank you anyway darling."

* * *

Rachel heard the doorbell ring from the kitchen. She was expecting Kurt, but didn't realise he'd be here so quickly. She'd only gotten back from her morning shoot 15 minutes ago and was looking forward to some alone time before having company over. "Coming," she called as the door chimed again. Padding down the hall she swung the door open, a smiling Kurt staring back at her. His hair was messier than he usually would deem acceptable, and his clothing, though dark and elegant was a little askew. "Kurt, so nice to see you," Rachel said collecting him into a warm hug.

"Rachel, honey, how are you?" He said brightly, returning the hug. The satchel bag he wore over his soldier bumped against Rachel's thigh, something oddly sharp brushing against her.

"Oh, I'm fine, a little tried. Just got back from set. But it's all good, come in," she said welcoming Kurt inside her home. Kurt stepped gracefully inside. Rachel watched as he wandered up the hallway, glancing over at the frames on the walls as he went. He stopped at a photo of her and Charlie, smiling up at the camera on her first day of school. Her dark curls, her hazel eyes. Her smile. All identical to the man Kurt believed belonged to him.

"Who is this little cutie?" Kurt said, pointing out her daughter calmly.

"Oh, that's Charlie. My daughter."

"Huh." Kurt said simply continuing onward. Rachel was too worn down to even remember that Kurt wasn't supposed to know about Charlie.

* * *

Finally, Blaine and Finn landed in Los Angeles. They rented the first car they got their hands on, Finn driving quickly to the address Blaine was listing off.

"We need to go to talk to Frances first; she'll know what's going on with Rachel and Charlie." Finn shifted uncomfortably at the name. On the plane ride over, Blaine had explained everything in a hushed voice – college, Kurt's pack of 'friends', the affair. Blaine realised Finn was jealous of him, but had no time to worry about it now, there were more important things to stress over.

"Will Frances be able to help us too?" Finn asked as he drove, turning off down a side street as Blaine pointed it out.

"I hope so. Rachel tells her everything. She's gotta be good for something."

The cheap blue car turned into the drive of the huge modern house on the corner of Archer Place, Finn and Blaine dashing out and up to the steps. Blaine knocked on the door and waited. There was no answer. "Do I need to break it in?" Finn asked, preparing himself.

"No, it's unlocked…" Blaine twisted at the handle, shiny brass chinking and allowing the heavy wooden door to swing backward. "Oh my god."

Lying in the foyer before them was the bloody body of Frances Young, eyes wide and staring right at them, her mouth bleeding and open. Blaine thought she was still alive for a second until he spied the cut throat and what was in her hand. Her tongue, sitting still and silent in her grasp. "Kurt did this," Blaine started, pushing past Finn's horrified figure and back out the door. Finn followed, closing the door behind them. He took his cell from his pocket and dialled a number.

"What are you doing?" Blaine asked, annoyed.

"Calling the police, its procedure," Finn started before the voice on the other end spoke. "Hi, this is Sergeant Finn Hudson of Lima Police, Ohio; I'd like to report a body at 276 Arthur Place, Los Angeles."

"Hurry up, Wonder Cop," Blaine said, climbing back into the car.

Moments later, Finn climbed back inside, hanging up his phone and immediately reversing out of the drive.

"So it's almost 3pm, that means Charlie will be heading home soon," Blaine started, quickly followed by another set of directions for Finn to follow. "We need to hurry."

* * *

The clock in Rachel's kitchen read 2:45pm as she poured a large mug of espresso for her former best friend. There had been an awkward silence since between them, causing Rachel to shift uncomfortable in her stool. Kurt simply watched her eerily from his seat. "I think I want milk in mine," Rachel justified as she turned toward the fridge. The moment her back was turned, Kurt slipped the thick white powder into her drink, Rachel not even noticing as she added her milk. One sip of the drink passed her lips, and suddenly she was passed out on the floor, strangely aware of her surroundings but unable to do a single think about it. She felt her limp body being dragged, her drugged state causing the room to spin. She felt as she was propped up on against a stool. Her limbs were like a rag doll, head lulling to one side and eyes unfocused. She could barely make out Kurt before her, grinning evilly down at her.

"Hey Rachel, how are you doing know?" He said quietly. Rachel was paralysed, but could feel every ounce of pain as Kurt took the stoker from its place by the fire and struck her sharply across the face. She couldn't scream, couldn't move out of the way. She was forced to sit there with no control over her own body as this man swung again and again, beating her bloody. Minutes, maybe hours passed, but the pain didn't stop. She faintly saw Kurt place down the weapon. "Darling, it looks about time to pick Charlie up, allow me." He bent over to place a demeaning kiss on her hair. "I'll be back for more family fun with the bastard in a little bit, whore." He punched her hard, breaking her nose for the second time in her life. Blood flowed freely as she heard the click of the door, and the roar of an engine.

Rachel couldn't even cry for her child.

* * *

"I've tried Rachel's phone twice already Finn, she won't answer," Blaine's voice was bordering on hysteria. "She always answers this number, it's her emergency line. So if she doesn't answer there is a fucking emergency."

"Blaine, just try and stay calm, we'll sort this out, it's all gonna be fine-" The car swerved to a sharp stop as Blaine leapt across the seat and was scruffing Finn.

"Don't you dare fucking tell me it's all going to be okay. That is not your kid out there that he's hunting. It's not your fault that he's determined to kill them. You have no fucking idea what he is capable of. So don't you fucking telling me it's all going to be okay, Finn Hudson. You have no right."

Blaine threw him back, swiftly exiting the car, and slamming the door. "Blaine, come back, this isn't going to do any good," Finn started, watching Blaine jog down the road.

"Call you little cop friends Finn, let them know what's going on. I'm going this way, I'll be quicker on my own. See you on the other side."

And Blaine was off running, no turning back.

* * *

Charlie usually had to wait about 10 minutes for her Mommy or for Frances to come pick her up from school. As the minutes ticked on, ticking past the 10 minuted mark, Charlie began to worry. Mommy was never this late. The schoolyard was beginning to thin out as she waited on the small yellow bench where she waited every day. It was Friday, and she wanted to get home and watch cartoons, and eat apple snacks. She wished her Mommy would hurry.

She didn't notice the man at first, tall and slender, dressed in dark, elegant clothing. He was standing over her peculiarly, and she looked up at him, squinting against the sun in her eyes. He squatted down so that he was at her eye level and began to talk.

"Hello Charlie, my name is Kurt. I'm your father's fiancée," he held out a hand for her to take. Reluctantly at first, she moved her finger to meet his.

"Hello Kurt, my name is Charlie."

"Your Mommy asked a special favour from me to come pick you up and take you home. She had to go into work with Frances and since I was visiting she asked me to come get you. So let's go, shall we?"

"Wait," Charlie spoke up, not yet convinced about this strange man. "Prove that you and Blaine are going to get married."

Kurt chuckled. "Well if Blaine were here, I'd get him to tell you, but because he's not, I guess this will do," he showed him the thin silver and on his finger. "This is the engagement ring Blaine proposed to me with. And here," Kurt fished his wallet from his coat. "This is a picture of me and Blaine. I love him very much." The photo showed the two of them smiling on their back porch, taken just after they'd moved back to Lima. Kurt's arms were around Blaine's neck while Blaine balanced the camera to take the photo. Something twisted in Kurt's gut. This is why he was fighting so hard for Blaine. To try and regain that love they once had so strongly.

Charlie gazed down at the photo. "Okay, Kurt, I believe you." She took his hand in hers and Kurt escorted her back to his car.

* * *

Blaine reached Rachel's front door, sweaty and tired twenty minutes later. Knocking quietly first, he heard no reply. Noticing the house as unlocked, he slipped quietly inside, creeping down the hall. Everything was quiet, too quiet. It wasn't like Frances' house had been though, Blaine still could feel the life in it, however broken and strained it was. Following where his instincts led him, Blaine soon found Rachel. She'd been strapped to a chair, her face black and swollen, blood pouring from her nose and from multiple gashes across her face.

"Rachel! Oh god!" Blaine cried running to her, gently cradling her beaten face in his hands. She let out a weak gasp, blinking slowly up at Blaine.

"Blaine…" Rachel managed as his eyes glistened with tears.

"Listen, Rach, I'm going to get you out of here, you and Charlie are going to be safe. Just let me untie you."

"No… Don't," Rachel protested as Blaine tried to loosen her bonds. "He'll… kill her… If I'm not here to distract him…"

"But why, she's just a child! She's done fucking nothing to him,"

"But she's your child, Blaine…" Rachel's voice tried to be strong. "That's… the reason."

"Exactly, it's my fault again…"

Blaine's ear pricked as her heard an engine shut off in front of the house. Rachel squirmed beneath his touch, urging him to leave her. "Hide," was all she could utter.

* * *

A second before it was too late, Blaine was hiding in the closet, just as her heard the back door slam and Kurt come inside. Blaine almost fainted when he heard the bright twitter of Charlie's voice with him.

"Okay, Charlie, now I need you to go upstairs and play while I finish up down here. I'll come get you when it's time for us to play, alright sweetie?" Blaine heard Kurt tell the girl.

"That's okay Kurt, don't be too long, this sounds exciting, I really wanna play!" Charlie exclaimed, her feet running up the stairs.

"So do I," Kurt muttered, just loud enough for Blaine to hear. "Ah, Rachel!" He said almost randomly. "How are we darling?"

Blaine didn't hear Rachel's answer, the sharp crack of shattering bone filling the room. The assault on the poor woman continued, her voice lost on small whimpers as she began to regain a tiny amount of control over herself. Silently, he slipped out of the closet, luckily, Kurt's back was turned, and was much too preoccupied by beating the living shit out of Rachel.

Stepping softly of the carpet, Blaine snuck up the stair, following down the hall into Charlie's bedroom. She found her murmuring quietly to herself as she played with her dolls and Hot Wheels cars, her face lighting up when she saw Blaine. Quickly she shushed her, launching into a quick explanation for this little girl.

"Charlie, there is a very, _very_ bad man downstairs that really wants to hurt you. We need to get out of here, okay? Now you have to hold my hand while we sneak down stairs and out the door and into Mommy's big car. While we go downstairs we cannot make a sound, you understand? No matter what you hear you have to be absolutely silent. Can you do that for me?"

Charlie nodded, her hazel eyes worried.

"C'mon then," Blaine reached out for her hand and began to lead her down the hall. Blaine could still hear the sickly thump of flesh and iron, Rachel's voice slowly becoming more audible as she sobered up from her drugged state. Charlie's face was frozen into a frightened mask. Slowly they made their way out of the room. Blaine reached the rack of keys by the back door, carefully grabbing the ones that belonged to the huge Land Rover in the drive. He opened the door with a sharp twist, grimacing as the tiny squeak rang out in the silence. He hurried Charlie out, closing the door loudly this time. Unlocking the huge car, he helped Charlie inside, buckling her in securely in her car seat. "Stay there until I come back," Blaine said kissing her on the forehead.

Charlie was out. Now to distract him from Rachel.

* * *

Rachel's voice was beginning to return to her body. Mustering a few whimpers and a groan here and there was nothing. But the loud slam of the back door caused Kurt leave the injured woman alone. Wandering to the window he saw Blaine, sneaking with the girl, strapping her into the car. He closed the door, and was heading back toward the house. Kurt gripped the stoker he'd been using to beat Rachel. Pinning himself against the wall by the door way, he waited for Blaine to return. He watched as the knob twisted with a slight squeak, Kurt raising the instrument over his head, ready to strike.

The second that Blaine had opened the door even partially, both Kurt and Blaine had been startled by the sound that had erupted from Rachel. "BLAINE, RUN!" she screeched, Kurt coming down to swing just a moment too late, Blaine already retreating back to the Land Rover. Kurt peeked out the window to see Blaine sprinting to the vehicle.

"Right, bitch, lets go," Kurt spat coming back to Rachel, and ripping away her restraints. He yanked her by the arm, twisted it dangerous in the socket, letting out another cry of pain from Rachel's broken form. Dragging her out of the front door, Kurt just caught sight of Blaine's car speeding down the street. "If we fucking lose them I'm going to fucking kill you," Kurt snarled, throwing her down the steps, dragging her by the hair to the cheap rented car parked out front. He tossed her into the passenger side, the car roaring to life as soon as he shoved in his keys. He sped following the path that Blaine and the bastard had taken.

"I thought that was the idea." Rachel managed spitting blood out onto the seat.

"What was the idea," Kurt asked, concentrating on catching up.

"To kill me." Kurt laughed at her assumption.

"Oh sweetie, what I had planned for you is so much worse."

* * *

Blaine knew that the second Kurt had had a swing at him from inside the house, that that was it. He was luring him out into the open and was hoping Finn's police friends could find them and stop Kurt before anything else happened. Charlie sat nervously in the backseat as Blaine swerved in and out of traffic, taking the wrong turn here and there and simply going over the round-a-bouts. He could see the cheap rented car shining in the distance, following his crazed pattern. Kurt.

He was gaining on them. Kurt's car was close enough now for Blaine to see Rachel's bloody form lulling on the passenger seat. He could see the crazed fire in Kurt's eyes.

"Daddy, can we slow down please," Charlie begged, her voice scared.

"I'm sorry baby, we can't," Blaine said, saddened. Charlie whimpered from the backseat. _She called me Daddy,_ Blaine thought. He couldn't enjoy the moment, Kurt quickly gaining on them every second.

* * *

"We've almost got 'em Rachel! I've almost got your baby bastard and that naughty man we both adore so much," The crazed flicker in Kurt's eyes shined brightly.

"Fuck, Kurt, just let them go!" Rachel screamed, sobbing in her seat. A hand snapped out sharply, punching her head back with a crack.

"Shut up, bitch," Kurt laughed as he dodged traffic. He was directly behind Blaine now. And the excitement was too much.

Glancing in his rear view mirror he saw something that caused him to swerve dangerous, almost making him lose control. The sad faced boy, crystal eyess staring in disappointment back at him. He was sitting on the back seat, watching him.

_I'm so ashamed of what we've become. I think I'm more ashamed of the fact you aren't._

"Shut the fuck up!" Kurt howled at his reflection, tearing his eyes away from the mirror. He pulled out, now driving beside Blaine. His tiny rented car was dwarfed beside the Land Rover, but Kurt was far too high strung to even think out the odds. Blaine glanced over, worried. Kurt reached over and wound down Rachel's window, the woman having been knocked unconscious. Blaine pressed a button and the automatic window scrolled down with a buzz.

"Just stop Blaine! Come back to me, how it used to be!" Kurt shouted into the air.

"No fucking way Kurt, I never wanted any of it. I never wanted to be like you. This shit was forced upon me. I'm done. Consider us over."

_See, he doesn't want you like this. I've tried to tell you. He doesn't love you anymore._

Kurt glanced in his rear view mirror at the image of himself at 17, innocent and saddened by what he'd done to themselves. Mirror Kurt sighed, crystal eyes avoiding Kurt's own tear filled ones.

"He doesn't love me?" Kurt asked Mirror Kurt.

"_Not for a long time."_

Kurt let go of the wheel, watching as Mirror Kurt leaned over and took control, driving straight into Blaine's car, dragging it with them as they drove into the oncoming lane of traffic. Together, the two cars slid across the highway, onto the opposite bank. Kurt's car rolled up the grassy bank a little before coming back down and crashing back into Blaine's. Blaine's airbags had ignited, leaving him dizzy and swimming in white the cushiony balloons. Charlie sat crying in the backseat, but otherwise unharmed. Blaine looked over to see the rented car on its side, Rachel's limp body hanging out of the open window sickly. Blaine saw Kurt's body hanging out of the windshield, his breathing shallow as he tried to drag himself from the wreckage. Crawling over to the back, he unbuckled Charlie, holding her to his chest. "Daddy…" she whimpered into him as he stroked his hair and comforted her.

* * *

The thick smell of petroleum filled the air and Blaine realised they had only seconds to get out of there alive. He threw the car door open leaping out onto the ground with Charlie cradled protectively in his arms, putting as much distant between himself and the crashed cars as possible. Moments later, the spark was sighted, and the explosion of burning cars caused distress amongst the highway. Blaine stood in shock, watching as his lover and his fiancée went up in smoke and flames. Charlie was wailing, crying for Rachel. He stood by watching, completely helpless as he held her. Soon the Fire Department arrived, and a few ambulances, the Police too, along with Finn. There was a deep gash above Blaine's right eyebrow from the accident and both he and Charlie were treated for shock.

Eventually the flames were stopped, paramedics moving in to search the wreckages. There was nothing left of either of them, only a few teeth, later identifying Kurt as one of the victims. The Police asked Blaine the question - who was in the car, what was happening. Blaine explained that Kurt was his fiancée, and that they had fought, and he's decided to take it out on his ex and their child. "Rachel Berry. She was the woman."

* * *

The news stories relating to the death of the rising star that was Rachel Berry were huge. _Tragic Accident Leaving A Star to Die. Highway Bomb Taking Our Berry._ Blaine made sure to stay out of it, Charlie especially. Finn had asked Blaine for the extra details about Kurt, and his murders. Eventually, Kurt Hummel was charged with the murder of 37 people with 10 years, naming him one of the worst serial killers in history, nicknamed the 'Pink Glitter Killer'. Many families were given closure. Blaine was given closure some closure. Legal custody was given to Blaine for Charlie. They moved away, to a new place where neither of them had ever lived, to start a fresh.

**They hoped that there would be no more monsters from their past coming to haunt them.  
No more things to worry them.  
They hoped that they would be able to live peaceful lives from now on.  
Lives that were exceptionally ordinary.  
And that they did.  
**


	13. Epilogue: The End

**AN: I finally finished a multi chapter story. It only took me over a year. I think I deserve a life time achievement award because I have commitment issues.**

**I really hoped you guys enjoyed this as much as I loved writing it, however long it took me. Much love brothas!**

** I'd super love you if you left a final review yay**

* * *

**Three years have passed.  
Blaine and Charlie now live quiet lives in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania.  
Blaine Anderson is now works as a guidance counsellor at the local public high school.  
Charlie just turned 10, and spends almost all of her time dancing.  
Blaine feels she is going to follow in her Aunt Erika's footsteps.  
Nothing special ever happens to them.  
This is exactly what they wanted.  
But you can't always get what you want.**

Blaine had barely gotten home from work an hour ago, but was already working hard again, cooking dinner for when Charlie arrived home, copying files from his computer, and watching for the football score on television. Chopping vegetables roughly, he slid them into the awaiting pot, slightly sizzling as they impacted with the heat. He glanced up at the clock. 5:45pm. He'd have to head to pick up Charlie from dance any minute now. Janey always took Charlie with her daughter Laura to dance class after school, Blaine arriving home too late to take her. The deal was that Blaine would pick the girls up and take them home. Blaine was the only dance dad at the school, and all the mothers were especially willing to do him favours. He would accept humbly, always offering to help out with something DYI if they needed. Everyone adored Charlie anyway, so everyone was very sweet to their small family.

Blaine turned the heat down to barely a simmer as he grabbed his keys off the bench, slipping out of his apron. He was about to head out the door, when he heard the sharp knocking against wood.

It took only a second for Blaine to answer. Opening it, he found himself looking into the face of a tall man. His skin was pale, almost a sickly pale, though the majority of it was covered up by dark, elegant clothing. His hair was thinning in odd places, a light brown, and styled to the best of his ability. His face would have once been handsome once, but now a huge, ugly burn was scarred into the left side of his face, tweaking his left eye in the corner. His eyes, were a crystal blue, and shined darkly. His lips twisted into a crooked grin, revealing a few missing teeth from his smile.

The moment he'd met his eyes, Blaine had recognised him.

"Hello Blaine. Long time, no see." The man's voice was darker, rougher than he remembered.

"Kurt… I thought you were dead."

Kurt giggled childishly and so disturbingly in the doorway.

"Well we all make mistakes now don't we."

**THE END**


	14. ATTENTION! IMPORTANT THINGS

**Hey all!**

**I just wanna say, thank you soooo much for all putting up with my long, long, long hiatuses and update waitin' and such. And thank you so much for the awesome feedback. Makes my heart happy to hear that from people who aren't my mother.**

**A lot of people have frantically left reviews about the ending, and how they need to know how it ends and have asked about a sequel. Originally, that was going to be it. That was going to be everything. A nail biting cliff hanger where you have no idea what is going on. Just like Inception.**

**But I've gone away and thought about it, and I've come up with a pree cool idea for a sequel that can super work and ma**ke sense and I think be just as good as the **original. So I'm going to be writing that, along with a Faberry fic that I've been wanting to do for ages but I was waiting to finish writing Glitter and Gore. So I'm just gonna say 'fuck it' and juggle two stories. Yay.**

**AND I PROMISE I'LL HAVE MUCH MORE REGULAR UPDATES, LIKE, ONCE ERRY TWO WEEKS AT LEAST. I'm giving up sleep. Hahah.**

**So if you guys wanna stay tuned for the sequel, that'd be so awesome. You may like to subscribe to me perhaps so you can see when its being posted? And it'd be super double awesome if you possibly read my Faberry one too, which I'll be posting the first chapterof probably later tonight. Paranormal. Woooooooh.**

**If anyone has any other questions or whatever, or just wanna get in contact with me or something, you can find me on tumblr. My URL is chroniclady-**

**Thankyou all again so much guys! It makes me so happy to hear any feedback and the stuff I got brought tears to my eyes. Love you chums.**

**-artificialprince x**


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